


When I thought I lost you.

by Bluebuell33



Series: I did it for you. [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF John, Flashbacks, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Mycroft is a Bit Not Good, Past Torture, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, There will be more tags as I go, pinning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-08-04 04:35:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 21,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16339931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluebuell33/pseuds/Bluebuell33
Summary: In the darkest moments of our lives, when all hope is lost and we no longer know who we are, is when we sometimes think clearer than we ever have.He keeps a list.They will pay for what they did.They know what they did, they know why he is there.Sherlock had been dead for 6 months and John has been avenging him for the past 5 months.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started this on a whim one night, when I was in a really bad mood, listening to Disturbed "The avengeful one." I decided to write John kicking butt. Then one thing lead to another. I am not sure where this is going, but I hope you will join me for the ride. Not sure how often I will update this, but I have already started chapter 2. Let me know what you think.

In the darkest moments of our lives, when all hope is lost and we no longer know who we are, is when we sometimes think _clearer than_ _we ever have._  

This thought runs through John Watson’s mind as he pulls the trigger, ending the life of another Moriarty associate. He has spent the last five months tracking and hunting them down. Feeling more like a soldier than he did in the war. Except he is not a soldier, he is a killer. Find them, kill them. No trial, no coppers, no orders.  

He keeps a list.  

They will pay for what they did.  

They know what they did, they know why he is there.  

Six months since Sherlock died and John still sees him everywhere, he is always there, coat swirling around him. Always offering his deductions in John’s mind for each person he finds.  

John only spent a few hours staring at Sherlock’s chair before he started thinking about killing himself. One week before he tried. Lestrade and Mycroft showed up and saved his life.  _Saved it for what? So, he could continue living a life he hated now. A life without Sherlock..._  

No one could bring Sherlock back. No one could fill the hole he left in John’s life. In his heart.  

John would do this, he would hunt down everyone that was connected to Moriarty and once they were dead, he would finally rest. Nor Lestrade or Mycroft would know or be able to stop him this time.  

It was the thought that fueled him through the last few months. The thought that soon he would be with Sherlock again. Together they would solve cases in heaven or hell depending on where they ended up.  

Today he was deep in Serbia tracking down a large group of Moriarty’s web, He knew where the hideout was, having got the information out of a lackey. John was armed to the teeth, he entered the compound complete with body armor, though he had no plans to make it out alive, he would end it on his own terms when everyone else was dead.  

While he moved through the compound killing everything that moved or shot at him, he started hearing men yelling about a prisoner they thought he was after. The words  **Britanski** **Detektiv**  (British Detective) were being thrown around. John’s Serbian was a bit rusty, but he decided it was worth fighting his way down to the prison cells.  

He was sure he must have found the right cell gauging from all the guards collected there. John checked his ammo and guns quick before turning the corner and opening fire. He was glad he had acquired body armor for tonight, as he could feel and hear the bullets all around him. He felt a bullet hit his leg, barely a flesh wound, he kept going. Once the guards were dead or had fled for their lives, John wrapped his leg quickly to slow the bleeding before opening the door they were guarding.  

There laying on the floor in the middle of the cell, curled in a small ball, face covered with his large broken hands was someone John never thought he would see again. Sherlock.  

John was thankful that he was filled with adrenaline right now and didn’t have time fall apart. Sherlock wore only pants and was covered in scars, some old, some from today.  

John slowly bent down by the body of the man who he loved and had grieved. The man he had been avenging for the past 5 months.  

He gently spoke his name for the first time in what seemed like forever. “Sher--lock?” His voice cracked. “Sherlock? Can you hear me?” He wanted to reach out and touch Sherlock but decided against it. Who knows how Sherlock would react to being touched at this moment. 

He could hear movement down the corridor. “Sherlock, we need to leave. Please.”  

He removed his coat, holding it out when a voice from the floor reached his ears.  

“You’re not him. He is not here.”  

He looked down to see Sherlock staring up at him. His beautiful eyes that always seemed to sparkle, were dull and sunken in, his hair was long and matted to his head, there were cuts and bruises covering his face, arms, and body.  

John felt his anger rising, he would kill them all. Every last one of them for this.  

“Sherlock, it’s me. It’s John. I need to get you out of here. Now.”  

He pulled his burner phone out and dialed a number, he thought he would never use again.  

“Save it, Mycroft. I need a plane or helicopter to my position or as close as you can now! I found him... NOW MYCROFT!” He dropped the phone back in his pocket, before moving closer to Sherlock.  

“Sherlock? I’m going to need you to stand. Can you? I need you to help me. We have to get out of here.”  

“John?”  Sherlock croaked.  

“Yes, it’s me. We have to get you out of here. I’m going to help you up and wrap my coat around you.”  

Slowly John was able to help Sherlock stand, wrapping his arm around Sherlock's waist, trying not to think about how small Sherlock felt. He had always been on the slender side, but this was worse. 

 How long had Sherlock been here? How was he even here? When had he last been giving food or water?  

John tried to move past these thoughts and just work on getting them out alive. With his right arm, he held Sherlock close, carrying most of his small weight, in his left hand was his gun. He moved them painstakingly slow through the compound, often stopping to reload or hide Sherlock when the bullets got thick.  

_They had to make it out, they had too._  

He could feel Sherlock shaking against him. He needed some sort of transport to get them out of here, they were running out of time. He had no idea if or when Mycroft would be able to reach them. It was up to John to save them.  

What a change from planning his own death just a few hours earlier. What if he had not found out about Serbia and never decided to come here as his last stop.  _God, he couldn’t even think about that_. Had Mycroft known that Sherlock was here and alive?  

“No. He knew I was alive, but not that I was caught.” Came a shaky voice in his ear.  

“Ok. I will deal with that when we get back. First, we need to make a run for that truck.” John pointed to the truck parked 50 yards away. “Do you think you can make it?”  

“Yes.”  

“On three.” John tightened his grip around Sherlock. “1....2.....3!”  

They run across the yard, John carrying most of Sherlock’s weight at one point. Once they reached the truck, John threw open the door and tossed Sherlock into the cab, as carefully as he could. Jumping in after him and pulling the door closed. 

“Fuck! No fucking keys!” John cursed, slamming his hands on the steering wheel then ducked as a bullet hit the side of the truck.  


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John threw his body over Sherlock as a shield to the bullets outside the truck. He tried not to touch him, but protect him just the same. 
> 
> Sherlock was curled up on the seat, his head next to John’s leg, as he slowly reached out his hands and pulled at wires before starting the truck. He only seemed to wince slightly, though his hands were in bad shape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this. I have never posted a fic that wasn't basically all written. I hope you are enjoying this journey with me. I have an idea where I want this story to go and end, but we will see. This chapter started one way and skipped to something I didn't have planned. Let me know what you think. Thanks for reading. I love getting your comments. <3

\--------------------

6 months prior.  

 

John entered their (no, just his now) empty flat, he had just witnessed his heart and soul bleeding out on the sidewalk of St. Barts. He can’t remember how he got home. Is it still home without Sherlock? How did he get here? Did he walk? Did Mycroft bring him? Where was Mrs. Hudson?  

What happens now??? 

How did one continue living once you watched the one person you loved and owed everything to, jump to their death.  

 _God, he should have told Sherlock he loved him months ago. Why did he have to be such a_ _coward?_ _Now he would never get the chance. Sherlock died not knowing how John felt about him._  

He crossed the room and sat in his chair, Sherlock’s green leather chair seemed to stare at him, mocking and marking his loss.  

He lost all track of time, he didn’t move or think about anything besides Sherlock’s goodbye. He should have told him right then.  

 _“This is my note, isn’t that what people do, leave a note?”_  

God, why couldn’t he have said “No Sherlock don’t jump! I love you!” 

 Coward, coward, coward..... Failure. Failed his best friend, when Sherlock needed him most...  

Desk drawer... It's right there. Five steps and it'll be over... The pain would be gone... 

 

\--------------------------

 

Present Day. 

 

John threw his body over Sherlock as a shield to the bullets outside the truck. He tried not to touch him, but protect him just the same.  

Sherlock was curled up on the seat, his head next to John’s leg, as he slowly reached out his hands and pulled at wires before starting the truck. He only seemed to wince slightly, though his hands were in bad shape.  

“Oh, you brilliant genius!” John cheered, quickly sitting up, throwing the truck in gear and speeding out of the compound, hoping no one would follow them. Once Sherlock was safe, he may consider coming back to finish what he started. Not the dying part, just the promise to kill everyone that laid a finger on Sherlock. 

He felt a slight pressure on his thigh, looking down, he could see Sherlock’s hand resting on his leg.  

“You are bleeding.”  

“I know. Don’t worry about it. Have to get you safe first.” 

“You didn’t have an escape plan... Why?-------- Oh, you were not planning on leaving...” Sherlock trailed off.  

“No. No, I wasn’t.” John replied quietly, he looked down to see Sherlock's head tilted up at him. His eyes watching John’s face closely. Observing everything, before he laid his head back down and closed his eyes, but left his hand on John’s leg.  

John felt an aching need to move his right hand from the steering wheel and place it over Sherlock’s on his leg. He stopped himself several times, as Sherlock’s hand appeared to have multiple injuries and John didn’t desire to cause him pain. He equally was hesitant that Sherlock wouldn’t except his touch at the moment. 

He had no notion of what torture Sherlock had endured during his time in Serbia. He tried not to dwell on these thoughts right now. He felt his phone go off in his pocket and hoped it was Mycroft with a rendezvous point. 

“I have a team landing at Vrsac airport, 20 miles north of your position. Can you make it there?”  

“Do I have a choice?” 

“I could have them meet you?” 

“I will try to get us there. But sooner would be better.”  

“What is his condition, John?” 

John glanced down at Sherlock again. He seemed to be in a distressed sleep, John could tell Sherlock was shaking through the hand he still had on John’s leg. He knew the wounds on Sherlock’s body must be hurting him, not to mention any mental difficulties that came with being tortured for any amount of time. 

“Not good, Mycroft.” 

“I will get the team in route to you.” 

“Thank you, Mycroft.” 

“John, take care of him.”  

“I will.” 

John hung up the phone and glanced at Sherlock, still lying curled up on the seat with his hand on John’s leg.  

“Sherlock? Mycroft has a plane waiting for us at the airport about 20 miles from here. So far no one is following us, so that’s a good sign.”  

Sherlock made a noise that John took for understanding. He was about to make a comment, but as they rounded the next bend, John could see two trucks blocking the road ahead of them.  

“Shit.” He cursed reaching to check his gun and ammo as he started to slow the truck down. There was no way around them, he would have to go through.  

This is why no one had followed them, they must have radioed ahead to have them cut off. John was not going down without a fight. He had to protect Sherlock. He would not lose him all over again. 

As they got closer John could see the men were heavily armed. “Damn it! Stay down Sherlock and don’t move.”  

He decided to see if they could ram their way through the trucks blocking the road. He accelerated now instead of slowing down, sticking his gun out the window and firing at the men. They dodged out of the way and started firing back.  

How far were they from the airport, he tried to speculate as the bullets started to rain at the truck. Suddenly the truck lurched as the wheels were shot out, John fought to keep control of the truck, but in the end turned his body to protect Sherlock’s as they slid off the road. 

Next thing he knew men were standing around the truck yelling for them to get out now. They pulled John and Sherlock out, making them kneel on the road. John winced as his injured leg hit the ground. At the same time, he heard Sherlock cried out as the man's bare knees hit the rocky ground when the men shove him down. He's still wearing only pants and John’s coat, which didn’t fit him. 

John saw nothing but red after he heard the distress in Sherlock’s voice. He would end them all.  


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He made it a week. One week without Sherlock. One week without Sherlock flouncing through the flat, calling for tea or a pen or asking John to get his phone out of the jacket he was wearing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am happy you are all loving this story so far. I have received lots of great comments. I have loved every comment and kudos. Thank you for reading and joining me on the crazy journey. I am super nervous and hope you all like this latest chapter. :)

\---------------

 

5 months and 3 weeks earlier. 

 

He made it a week. One week without Sherlock. One week without Sherlock flouncing through the flat, calling for tea or a pen or asking John to get his phone out of the jacket he was wearing. 

What he wouldn’t give to have Sherlock draped across the couch right now asking for any of these.  John would gladly take any of the madman’s demands if only Sherlock was there to make them. 

One week...  

He had taking to lighting cigarettes and leaving them burning just so it felt like Sherlock was there.  

One Week... 

John had never felt emptier then he did now. Not when he came back from the war, not when his parents threw him out of the house for being caught kissing a boy at graduation. Not even when James denied their over a year long relationship when asked about it.  

No, nothing was like losing Sherlock...   

One week... seven long sleepless days and nights... Should have told him “I love you”.  

John is a broken man... A man who deserves to have lost everything he held dear, but took for granted. 

His hand closed around his gun... A note on the side table that read (I’m sorry, but I can’t.)  

Raise the gun, press to temple... Breathe... 1..........Calm... No tears...2.......  

“JOHN!!”  

The door bangs open, Lestrade is yelling. Damn Mycroft and his hidden cameras.  

 

\-------------------------- 

Present Day 

John took in the situation around him. Four armed men around them. Two behind him, one beside Sherlock and one on the radio letting someone know they were caught. Guns pointed at both of them. John would need surprise on his side to pull this off.  

His gun was gone, he had his knife still on him, but the chance of Sherlock getting hurt was high.  _If he could surprise and disarm the men behind him..._  

Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched where Sherlock knelt on the ground. The man seemed to almost shrink into himself. What had they done to him? Sherlock was always larger than life, never showing fear to anyone. Had he been captured before this? Some of the scars on his body seem at least a few months old.  

What had happened to him in the last 6 months... John wondered if he could signal Sherlock to make the distraction, he needed to save them. Sherlock looked up just then catching John’s eye, for a moment he just stared straight at John, then turned his head towards the man next to him. 

John heard Sherlock say something to the man standing beside him, his voice was quiet. John could not hear what he said, but the man became angry, grabbing Sherlock’s hair yanking his head back.  

“Get your hands off him!” John roared, swing out his left elbow to catch one of the men behind him in the groin, before surging to his feet catching the second man with a left hook in the nose.  

There was shouting from everyone, just as John turned towards Sherlock, two shots rang out.  

“Sherlock!!” John felt his heart sink at the scene before him. Sherlock had taking out the man beside him than picking up the man’s gun, shooting the man on the radio at the same time the man shot at Sherlock.   

John closed the distance between him and Sherlock in a heartbeat, falling next to his body that lay still on the ground.  

“No! No! No! Sherlock!” John’s hands flew over Sherlock’s curled up body, searching desperately to find the spot that was leaking the dark red blood puddling on the ground. 

Torso wound. Bad but could have been worse. John pressed his hand to the wound, digging through his pockets with his other hand for a bandage. Have to stop the bleeding. He pulled a bandage free from his pocket, before he could open the package, there were hands grabbing the back of his bullet-proof vest dragging him away from Sherlock.  

 _NO! He had to save Sherlock_. John twisted his body swinging towards the man that held him, throwing him off balance causing him to lose his hold on John. Once he was free of the grip, John swept the man’s legs out from under him, catching him in a headlock as he went down. John proceed to snap the man’s neck like a twig. He could feel the bones break as the man went limp in his arms.  

If people thought he was killer before... 

John grabbed the bandage off the ground and dropped again next to Sherlock. “Stay with me, Sherlock. Please, I can’t lose you again.”  

“Joohhnn...” Sherlock rasped. “I’m.... so... sorry.” His eyes fluttered before closing and his body went lifeless against John.  

“No! You don’t do this to me now, Sherlock. You hang in there and you live for me.” John worked as fast as he could to stop the bleeding. He could hear chopper blades behind him. Finally.  

Mycroft’s men swarmed around them, taking over for John with supplies to stop the bleeding. Even though John knew they could help better than him, he still fought them as they tried to keep him from Sherlock.  

In the end, they brought both of them to the chopper together, Sherlock is lifeless, John was holding his hand and his wrist. The pulse was so weak, barely even there. John never let go of Sherlock’s hand, whispering words of love in his ear as the chopper took off.  

 _“You can’t leave me, Sherlock. You just can’t. I love you.”_  

 

\--------------------- 

 

Sherlock flashback 2 weeks earlier.  

 

His breath came in short gasps as he dashed through the woods. He could hear them closing in around him. He continued running past the point of his body screaming for him to rest. There was no stopping. If he stopped, he would die. He had collected all the data he need to put an end to the last remaining group in Serbia.  

He just had to get free and get the material to Mycroft’s men, so they could finish the job. Then Sherlock was free to return to London. To John.  

They had him, cornered him, knocking him on the back of the head, everything went black.  _John._  

Two days they left him in the cell. No food, no water, no questions.  

Last time he had been caught, they had asked lots of questions. That group had been sloppy. Sherlock had gotten free after two days. 

This was different. No questions. After two days, came the torture. Still no questions.  

They beat him with everything from fists to wrenches. One time, a guard took great pressure in whipping him to the point that his skin broke and the only thing holding him up was the chains around his wrists.  

 Still no questions. They knew who he was.  

They tortured him every day. Each time was different. Different method, different guard. Until he felt broken beyond repair. He started losing hope to get free.  

In the darkness of the cell, he would enter his mind palace and find John waiting for him each time. Mind palace John would kiss away the pain and the nightmares, always holding him tight until he fell asleep curled up on the damp cell floor.  

_I am so sorry that I left you, John..._


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As John slowly began to gain consciousness, he started to feel the pain in his leg and the bandage that was tightly wrapped around it. Must have been a clean shot, no major damage. His eyelids seemed to weight a ton as he tried to open them. Flickers of white spots danced across the darkness as his eyes tried to adjust to all the brightness of the hospital. He closed them again and brought up the last thoughts he had before succumbing to the darkness. Thoughts of Sherlock lying still in the helicopter as John held his hand, whispering words for Sherlock only. 
> 
> Words like: Don’t leave me. I just got you back. I need you. I can’t do life without you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are all ready for this. This chapter is way calmer then the rest so far. Thanks to everyone that has read this fic and joined me on this journey. I sat down and wrote this chapter in just a few hours. It really basically wrote itself.  
> I hope you all are still enjoying the story. Leave me a comment or tweet me @Octoberisblue. Enjoy.

\-----------------------

 

As John slowly began to gain consciousness, he started to feel the pain in his leg and the bandage that was tightly wrapped around it. Must have been a clean shot, no major damage. His eyelids seemed to weight a ton as he tried to open them. Flickers of white spots danced across the darkness as his eyes tried to adjust to all the brightness of the hospital. He closed them again and brought up the last thoughts he had before succumbing to the darkness. Thoughts of Sherlock lying still in the helicopter as John held his hand, whispering words for Sherlock only.  

Words like: _Don’t leave me. I just got you back. I need you. I can’t do life without you._   

John’s heart started to thud heavy in his chest as his mind slipped into a panic that the other man had not made it to the hospital. He needed to open his eyes and face whatever was in front of him. Avoiding would only make the panic worse.  

 _Alright, here we go. Eyes open. Panic and darkness be gone._  

John opened his eyes, taking in the room before him. Judging from what he could see, they had to be in Germany.  

“You would be correct, Dr. Watson.” Said Mycroft, who sat in a chair near John’s bed. 

“Mycroft? What brings you to my bedside? This can’t be good.”  

“You have been a hard man to keep track of these last few months, John.” 

John raised his hand to silence Mycroft.  

“First off, Mycroft, did he make it?” John tried to steady himself as he waited for the answer.  _What if Sherlock didn’t make it, then what happens._  

Mycroft paused then nodded his head. “Yes. Thanks to you, John.” 

John let his held breath go.  _Thank god._   _Now for answers._  

“How come you never told me, Mycroft? That he was alive all this time? I think I had a right to know.” John tried to keep his voice even and his breathing steady.  

“That was his choice to make, John. He chose your safety over you knowing and I stood by that.” Mycroft’s voice got quieter at the end.  

“Even when....” John’s voice cracked. “Even when I almost ended everything? You knew and yet you said nothing.” 

“John, I had you under a very watchful eye. Even while you were off playing soldier in parts unknown.”  

“Ha, Soldier.” John choked out a laugh. “I don’t think you can call what I have been doing for the past 5 months playing soldier, Mycroft.”  

“I know exactly what you have been doing while you were gone, John.” Mycroft scoffed. “Why do you think you were never questioned at any border crossings? Who do you think cleaned up the ruins you left in your wake? You were on a rampage across Europe, John and you don’t think I was watching at every turn.”  

John took a moment to think about the places he had been, the things he had done in the last five months and the fact that Mycroft had been watching him the whole time. Then he thought of Sherlock rotting in that prison. Suddenly he was angry at Mycroft for doing nothing all this time. _Had he known? Sherlock didn’t seem to think so._  

“Did you know he was captured, Mycroft? With all of your eyes in the sky?” John sneered at the last part.  

“I think we should talk about his mental state moving forward. His physical condition is stable, but mentally he is declining. I think...” 

“I SAID! Did you know he was captured, Mycroft?” The question came through gritted teeth as John was barely holding his anger in check.  

Mycroft looked away avoiding John’s eyes before he answered quietly. “Yes, I did.”  

“And did you know he was being tortured to the point of giving up? Or that it wasn’t the first time he was captured and tortured?” John was seething at this point.  

“The first time, he was scarcely there, before escaping on his own and as for this last time, I had a team in route when you showed up in the country.” Mycroft made an absent wave of his hand like it wasn’t a big deal. 

“So, you just let me take care of it. What if I hadn’t found him in there or never found the compound, or died! What then, Mycroft?!” John sat up on the bed, pulling out tubes and wires as Mycroft began to stand, moving towards the door.  

“John, there was a plan. I would have gotten you both out if needed.”  

“Mycroft, I think you need to leave right now,” John growled as he continued to unhook himself. At the same time, there came screaming from the hallway. A voice that John knew all too well.  

“Fuck.” John slid off the bed, putting no weight on his injured leg as he threw a glare in Mycroft’s direction. “Mycroft, you will take me to his room now and I mean right now.”   

 “John, I am not sure...”  

“Now, Mycroft or so help me!” 

“Yes, of course, John. I have already told them that you are granted all excess to him and they should listen to you should you have a medical recommendation about him.” Mycroft began to lead the way down the hall to Sherlock’s room. John hobbled behind him. He was going to need crutches or at the very least a cane again for a while.  

As they got closer the shouting only seemed to get worse, there were no words just pain. John’s heart was racing as his worry ran wild. Mycroft stopped just outside the door, turned and placing a hand on John’s shoulder.  

“For what it’s worth, John. I love my brother even if at times that doesn’t seem true.” He flinched as Sherlock started screaming again. “Take care of him.” 

John stared at Mycroft for a moment before he replied. “Always.” 

John moved forward, pushing the door open and entering Sherlock’s room to find him strapped to the bed as he flailed about, screaming at the nurses and doctors around him.  

“I am going to need you all to step back from him, now!” John barked and stepped into full Captain/Doctor mode.  

As he reached Sherlock’s side, He gently placing a hand over the one Sherlock was using to grip the bed rail.  

“Sherlock? Can you hear me? It’s me. It’s John.”  

Sherlock’s eyes were unfocused like he was unaware of his surroundings. John cupped the side of his face, turning it towards him.  

“Sherlock? Are you in there? You are safe, my love. Safe.”  

Sherlock appeared to calm upon hearing John’s voice but still would not settle completely.  

“What did you give him? Tell me!” John thundered, looking accusingly at the doctors and nurses still in the room. “And why is he strapped down?!” 

One nervous doctor stepped forward. “We used a sedative on him when he wouldn’t calm down after waking. The straps were for his protection.”  

John glared at the man until he backed away and left the room. “You didn’t think it may be a bad idea to strap down a man that has undergone torture?” John pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand, taking deep breathes. “I need all of you to get out now.” 

He waited until they all filed out before turning back to Sherlock.  

“Come back to me, my love. No one is going to harm you. I am here. I will protect you.” He leaned forward placing a kiss on Sherlock’s forehead, still holding his hand as the man he loved continued to fight the battle inside his mind. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John sat like a sentry beside Sherlock’s bed, never letting go of his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are all still enjoying this fic. I still don't have a plan as to how many chapters there will be as this story is still writing its self each chapter. But have faith it will end in happy Johnlock. <3 Thank you all for reading, liking, commenting and subscribing. It means the world to me. :)

_\---------------_

 

Footsteps outside _the door_ _– They are coming for him again. Curl up. Hide against the corner._  

 _Please no more._  

 _So dark – can't see. Hungry.  Thirsty_. _Don’t think about it. Push past the pain. Stay strong. Try to hold on to self. Must live... Must stay alive for John._  

 _Tied down – Can’t get free. Please stop._  

 _Think about John – Don't think about the pain._  

 _So much pain. Find mind palace, John. He will help us – Hold us._  

 _Never getting free. Never going home. Never going to see John again. To dark._  

 _Want to see John one more time. Have to say I’m sorry for leaving._  

 _Have to tell him I love him. Help me, John._  

 

 _____________________  

 

John sat like a sentry beside Sherlock’s bed, never letting go of his hand. Mycroft had been in a couple of times bring coffee and food for John. They barely spoke as John didn’t have the energy to fight with him anymore and he had said what needed to be said already. His focus was completely on Sherlock now as he had slipped in to fever filled dreams that left him tossing and turning. Sometimes Sherlock would cry out in a pain filled voice before silent tears would leak out of his closed eyes. But he still didn’t wake.  

Every cry was a knife in John’s heart, he felt useless as all he could do was wait for Sherlock to wake on his own. He had removed the straps that had held Sherlock down almost immediately after the doctors left the room, which had helped a little. Now he sat in the chair holding Sherlock’s hand, slowly rubbing circles across his knuckles, while continuously talking to him.  

 “Do you remember when we first met, Sherlock? In that lab at St. Barts? I knew then that you were someone special.” John smiled, lightly squeezing Sherlock’s fingers. “You went straight off with your brilliant deductions about me and then you listed what you considered the worst about yourself without so much as a hello.” John huffed a laugh. “I would like to say none of that was really true, besides you did tend to play your violin at all hours, but that never bothered me.”  

He paused for a moment to watch Sherlock sleep. He seemed less restless now that John was telling him a story or maybe it was just the sound of his voice that was helping Sherlock. Though Sherlock was still not waking up or becoming fully stable.  

John had read over Sherlock’s chart twice, even with what they gave him, he should be waking up now. John was getting a bit concerned because of the shock Sherlock’s body had gone through with the torture and then being shot, while his body was already very weak. He also worried about other damage that was maybe hidden below the surface.  

This was all a waiting game now, being a soldier and doctor, John was practiced in the art of waiting.  

He leaned forward towards their clasped hands and lightly grazed his lips across Sherlock’s knuckles. His hands were battered and bruised but should heal nicely. Sherlock’s left hand was worst of the two as the pinky finger on his left was broken. The right hand that John held only had the palm bandaged, leaving the knuckles and fingers free for holding and light kisses.  

John relished the freedom he had right now to show affection towards Sherlock, he could pretend that Sherlock returned his love and wanted John’s affection. Instead of the opposite.  

One more quick brush of the lips across Sherlock’s fingers before John continued his one-sided conversation with him.  

“Now, where was I? Oh right, so there was I was agreeing to be the flatmate of the most brilliant madman I had ever met.” John smiled fondly at Sherlock as he talked, every once in a while, he would brush a curl from Sherlock’s face, that fell across his eyes with every twist and turn of his restless sleep. 

“I had no idea what to expect when I arrived at Baker Street to meet you that night.” He continued. “I figured life would be similar to my bedsit only I would no longer be alone all the time. I didn’t think for one second that you would pull me into a danger/adrenaline filled world that I needed and just didn’t know I did. I can’t thank you enough for that by the way.” He lightly squeezed Sherlock’s hand.  

“I thought we would maybe hangout once in a while and watch telly or something.” He paused taking a deep breath, his heart pounding a bit faster in his chest. “Did you know you saved my life that day? I had been so close to ending everything when I saw Mike in the park. I had been out taking one last walk around London, visiting my favourite places with the plan to return to my flat and end everything. Then Mike told me about you and I thought well I will just meet this person and if it doesn’t work out, I can still follow through with my plan. Once I walked through those doors at Barts and met you, my world changed."

“I think that I..” John thought for a moment. “No, I know I fell in love with you on that first day. I just didn’t see what it really was until later by then I was scared to tell you. Afraid if you didn’t feel the same way, that I would lose you and losing you is not something I could handle, not even then.  

John wiped a tear that escaped down his cheek. “Do you hear me? I can’t survive losing you. I tried that once because you forced me too. If not for Mycroft and his bloody cameras, I wouldn’t be here right now holding your hand.”  

John rested his head against their hands and let the silent tears fall. “Please wake up my love.”  

John tried to sleep for a bit after that, while still resting his head on their hands. When he woke and checked the time it had been two hours. The most sleep he had gotten in a row since entering Sherlock’s room. He turned his head towards Sherlock's face to find his eyes open and watching John.  

“Sherlock?!” John’s voice cracked as his eyes locked with Sherlock’s.  

“John” Sherlock’s voice was raspy and dry sounding.  

“Here try to drink this.” John held a glass up for him, giving him just a small amount for now. “How are you feeling? Is there much pain?” 

“John, I want to go home.”  

John had never heard such a sad sound as sadness that filled those words. It was almost a whimper.  

“Sherlock, you need to heal. Your body has dealt with a large amount of stress. I’m not sure travel would be a good idea right now.”  

“I know what my body has been through!” Sherlock spat, his eyes flashing in anger then seemed to switch to fear. “Please, I just want to go home. Please let me go.”  

John tried not to flinch at the anger Sherlock had hurled at him then his heart broke at Sherlock’s pleads to go home. He wanted nothing more than to take Sherlock home right now and protect him from the rest of the world. He pulled out his phone and sent a text to Mycroft. 

 

 **Sent**  

 **Your brother is awake. Come as soon as you can. He wants to go home. Not sure travel is a good idea yet.**  

 

 **Received**  

 **Understood. MH**   


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> London.....Home..... 
> 
> John let out a sigh as he stared out the plane window down at the city he loved and missed. He never thought he would see London alive again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your wonderful comments so far and for continuing to read this story. This chapter came out more angsty then I planned though I did calm it down a bit. Yes this is the calmed down version. *Pained smile* We all know how much I love writing angst. I promise that this will end happy and there is healing coming very soon. Please bare with me.  
> Love you all for your continued support of this fic. Good luck and leave me a comment or come scream at me on twitter @Octoberisblue. May the odds be in your favor. lol

________________

 

London.....Home..... 

John let out a sigh as he stared out the plane window down at the city he loved and missed. He never thought he would see London alive again. He glanced across the aisle where Sherlock sat curled up in a chair sleeping. 

He looked soft and peaceful at this moment. John wanted to reach out and hold his hand, maybe lean in close to whisper they were arriving in his ear. But that time had passed. John had no right to want these things from Sherlock. Sherlock deserved better than him, Sherlock deserved someone who would not fail him as John had during the fall.  

John turned back to the window, leaving Sherlock to continue sleeping. He wondered how things would be once they were back in Baker Street. John thought back to the hospital after Mycroft had arrived.  

 

__________________ 

 

3 Days earlier 

 

“Brother mine, it’s good to see you awake,” Mycroft announced as he entered the room.  

Sherlock looked up sharply at his brother. “Mycroft, been putting on weight I see.”  

John could only watch as Sherlock slipped on a mask of indifference when Mycroft arrived. Gone was the vulnerable man and in place was the sociopath persona. He could see Mycroft watch it happen as well.   

“I wonder if I may have a moment alone with my brother, John?” Mycroft asked turning towards him.  

“No,” Sherlock growled. “Anything you have to say, John can hear as well.” 

“Sherlock, I believe you would rather not have the good doctor here for what we need to discuss.”  

John stayed seated in the chair next to Sherlock, looking back and forth between the brothers. He wondered what Mycroft could want to say that John shouldn’t hear. His heart swelled a bit at the thought that Sherlock wanted him to stay. He watched as Mycroft and Sherlock seemed to be having an angry silent conversion before Sherlock gave in and dropped his gaze to his lap in defeat. 

“John, I wonder if you might find a cup of broth for Sherlock?” Mycroft’s tone was so patronizing that John flinched a bit. Guess he wasn’t wanted after all. 

“Mycroft!” Sherlock barked, his eyes flashed in anger at Mycroft.  

John shrugged, standing up. “No, it’s ok, he is right you should try to eat something. I will be back in a bit.”  

He left the room quickly not taking a chance to look back. As the door closed behind him, he heard “None of this is hardly my fault, Sherlock.”  

 John stood frozen outside the door, oblivious to the nurses and doctors passing by him.  

What just happened? One moment Sherlock wanted John to stay then the next he is unceremoniously kicked out of the room. _What did Mycroft need to talk to Sherlock about that Sherlock won’t want John there for?_  

He thought for a brief moment about listening at the door to if he could hear them, then decided against as he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what they were talking about.  

 _Move your feet John and go find Sherlock something to eat._  

He silently berated himself for standing there as long as he had before moving down the hall in search of food. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eating anything bigger than a half a sandwich or a cup of coffee.  

Upon his return, having eaten and picked up a few items he thought Sherlock may attempt to eat, he paused outside the door.  

 _Should he knock first? Was Mycroft still in there? Did they need more time?_  

John checked the clock in the hall it had been half an hour since he left the room or was asked to get out. He hated the unknown, the unsure, the pause outside not wanting to intrude where he wasn’t wanted. If he could walk away from Sherlock, he would leave right now and find his own way home. Leave all of the uncertainty behind.  

But home wasn’t home without Sherlock and leaving him behind would only make things worse.  

 _Oh god. What if Sherlock didn’t want John to stay at Baker street anymore?_ John felt the panic set in, his heart racing at the thought. What would he do then? Maybe he would travel back to Serbia and finish what he started... Maybe the world would be a better place if John Watson had died that day in the sands of Afghanistan.  

Get out of your head John, not a path to follow right now. Step back from the edge. One day at a time. First, bring Sherlock the food and help him recover then see where things go from there.  

He reached out knocking on the door to Sherlock’s room and waited.  

“Do come in John. We are quite finished.” Mycroft called out from within the room.  

John opened the door to find Mycroft headed towards him.  

“Think about what I said Brother mine. John.” With a nod, Mycroft left the room.  

John looked towards Sherlock, taking in his quiet, withdrawn demeanor. He was sitting up more on the bed, hands still playing with a corner of the sheet. A nervous tick, his eyes never landing fully on John.  

“Mycroft has told me that I have to stay here at least a few more days. Per your request. I hope you are both happy.”  

John’s heart twisted in his chest. This was not like Sherlock, backing down, not fighting back or just going ahead with what he wanted. Instead, he seemed to be walking on eggshells. So careful and quiet besides his one outburst towards John about knowing what his body had been through.  

John wanted to yell at him to fight back, insist they go back now, call them both idiots, anything besides crawling back inside himself and disappearing.    

 

___________________ 

 

So here they were on the plane about to land in London. They had a small talk before leaving as to the reason Sherlock had jump. It was another mark John felt, made everything more his fault. Sherlock had done it for him. Gave up everything for him. Died for him.  

John had felt the weight of the words crushing him. He had no right to love this man as he did. John was too broken to deserve someone like Sherlock. But god if he didn’t wish he did anyway.  

Once they landed, Mycroft had woken Sherlock and lead them to a black car waiting on the runway.  

“This will take you back to Baker Street. Good afternoon John.” Mycroft said before entering a separate black car.  

John opened the back door before getting in, he noticed Sherlock following Mycroft to his car.  

“Sherlock?”  

Sherlock turned towards John, his face was unreadable. “I am staying with Mycroft for now as I am still dead technically.” He paused for a moment like he had more to say, but then moved to slide into the other car and closed the door.  

John stood watching as the car drove away, once it was out of sight he got in and closed the car door.  

Alone again. Always alone. Always losing those around him. Not worth anyone staying around.  

His mind was blank and his body was shaking by the time the car pulled up to Baker Street. Back to the beginning, back to the loneliness. How long would Sherlock be gone? Would he ever come back?  If he knew what was good for him, he would stay far away from John. John was no good for anyone.  

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six months since he entered this room alone, having just watched Sherlock fall. Five months and two weeks since he walked out the door with no plan to ever return. So much had changed in that time, even though he knew Sherlock was alive now. He was still very much alone, left behind, unwanted and now he was killer as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for your wonderful comments and kudos so far. I am so happy you are all loving this story and on this journey with me, especially after chapter 6. So sorry about that angst. <3 Things are going to get better for our boys, just hang on. Hope you enjoy this chapter. <3

 

 

\--------------------

 

John knocked on the door of 221B, having left his keys in the flat when he disappeared before. He hoped that Mrs. Hudson was home. What would he do or where would he go if she wasn’t? Thankfully he didn’t have to dwell on this thought long as he could hear her footsteps reach the door, he readied himself with a deep breath as she unlocked it.  

“Oh, John!” She gasped, before pulling him into a motherly hug. “I have been so worried about you, what with you just running off like that. Without saying a word to anyone.” She scolded him.  

John felt the guilt of not telling her anything before he left. Just one more person he had disappointed and failed. 

“I am so sorry Mrs. Hudson. I just couldn’t be here after—what happened.”  

“I know dear. But just let me know where you are going next time. I know I am not your mother, but I worry about you. We were all worried.” She gave him a small smile and a gentle pat on the arm as she stepped back from him. 

“All of you?” He questioned. 

“Me, Greg and Mycroft, of course. Though Mycroft would never have said as much. What with the pompous man that he is. But he couldn’t hide the worried look when he showed up, shortly after you had left. Made sure I knew that your rent would be covered. Such a softie when he wants to be.”  

John tried to wrap his head around Mycroft acting worried after how he had acted towards John in Germany.  

“I am sorry to have knocked and woke you this early, but I left my keys behind.” 

“I know, you silly boy. I found them upstairs after you left. You will be staying around now though?” She looked so hopeful. “I know it’s hard with him being gone, but I hope you will think about staying, it’s awfully quiet around here these days.” She said quietly, wiping a tear that had started to slide down her cheek.  

“Yes, of course. For a while at least.” He couldn’t bear to bring her any more worry right now.  

“Oh good!” She exclaimed before ushering him in the door and towards the stairs. “Now you just come right in and we will have a nice cuppa and catch up.”  

“Actually, can we wait until tomorrow, I think I am going to pop off to bed. If you don’t mind.” He tried to sound casual about it. “Lots of traveling the last few days.” He added when she paused.  He couldn’t tell her where he had been or about finding Sherlock in Serbia. Mycroft had made that very clear before they left Germany.  

“Oh, of course, dear. We can talk after you have rested.” With that she gave him a smile and entered her flat, closing the door.  

John hoped he had been convincing enough that she would not come upstairs until tomorrow at the earliest. He could feel the panic rising and didn’t need an audience for what he knew was coming.   

He looked up those seventeen steps and drew a shaking breath before he starting up them. At the top, he stopped for a moment with his hand on the doorknob. 

Six months since he entered this room alone, having just watched Sherlock fall.  Five months and two weeks since he walked out the door with no plan to ever return. So much had changed in that time, even though he knew Sherlock was alive now. He was still very much alone, left behind, unwanted and now he was killer as well. 

The long list of people who he killed during that five months he spent avenging Sherlock, weighted heavy on his heart. Though they had been bad people, he could still see their faces every time he closed his eyes. Up until now, he had been so busy with avenging Sherlock, then finding Sherlock, saving Sherlock, protecting him and then keeping him alive, that he had not thought about the after. He had never planned to live this long. To deal with the aftermath of what he had become.  

He slowly opened the door, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. The utter silence of the flat washed over him. Everything was just as he left it, hatefully quiet and still no Sherlock.  

John slide to the floor, curling up on himself. He deserved this, he should be alone. Silent tears ran down his face as he closed his eyes to everything. Who would want someone as broken as he was...  

 

________________________ 

 

Sherlock’s Pov.  

Sherlock opened his eyes as the car slowed to a stop outside of Mycroft’s house. How he loathed having to stay here for right now. Mycroft had been insistent that Sherlock stays out of sight and away from Baker street until they had brought him back to life.  

Sherlock had argued to have John stay with him, but Mycroft wouldn’t allow this. He had made it clear that John needed to be at Baker Street for now. Once the necessary pieces of Sherlock coming back to life were taking care of, then he could return to Baker Street. To John.  

Sherlock couldn’t get the vision of sheer heartbreak on John’s face as he had walked to the other car with Mycroft, instead of joining John in his car. He couldn’t stop thinking about John and how he had seemed to withdraw from Sherlock those last few days in Germany.   

He shook his head, trying to clear the images from his mind, before exiting the car. He looked up at Mycroft’s large house that was more a museum than a house. How he longed for Baker Street and its comfy rooms, that held everything that was dear to him, including an ex-army doctor.  

He slowly eased himself out of the car, his bullet wound was still tender and sore as was the rest of his body. Everything ached and throbbed with every movement he made.  

Once inside, Sherlock headed for the room he always used when staying with Mycroft. He had detoxed in this room a few years ago, he had also used it for a night after the fall. He removed his coat and laid down on the bed, just a few hours of rest before he rejoined the world.  

3 hours later, Sherlock entered the kitchen to find Mycroft on the phone with his back to Sherlock. 

 “What do you mean he removed the cameras in the flat? Mrs. Hudson should be there, have her check on him. How long was he down? How much do you think he drank? Yes, I will arrive shortly.”  

“I told you this would happen! I told you he shouldn’t be alone!” Sherlock bellowed, pressing a hand to his bullet wound as it screamed shooting pain through his body. He spun around ignoring the pain, never giving Mycroft a chance to speak and briskly walked towards the door.  

“If anything, and I mean ANYTHING happens to that man, Mycroft! I swear I will hold you personally responsible and never speak to you again! And tell Anthea to leave him alone!” He yelled back at Mycroft before slamming the front door and ducking into the black car parked at the curb. “Baker street now!” 

 _Please hold on John. I am on my way._  

The car had barely stopped before Sherlock was out the door and unlocking Baker street. He took the steps as fast as he could, choosing to ignore the pain that surged through his body.  

Throwing open the door to the sitting room, he found it empty. Panic overruled the pain and he rushed through the flat searching for John. Finding him at last curled up on Sherlock’s bed, eyes closed and tears streaming down his face.  

“I am here now John. You are not alone anymore.” He moved towards the bed, gently lying down facing John. He wasn’t sure if John would appreciate being touched by him, but he reached out for the man anyways, glad when he seemed to shift closer to Sherlock until he was wrapped in Sherlock’s arms.  

John choked out a sob as he clung to Sherlock. “Don’t leave me.” Was barely heard against Sherlock’s shoulder where John’s head was pressed. 

“Never again,” Sherlock replied, pulling John a little closer.   


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John woke to the feel of a warm body under his. He tried to think back to earlier. How much did he drink? Must have been enough to fog his memories. He had just wanted the lonely feeling of losing Sherlock to go away and to keep the nightmares at bay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Hope you are all still enjoying this. This chapter took a bit longer to figure out and then it went rouge. It was not what I had planned but its what wanted to be written. So I hope you like it. ahhh Let me know. <3

\------------------

 

John woke to the feel of a warm body under his. He tried to think back to earlier. _How much did he drink? Must have been enough to fog his memories. He had just wanted the lonely feeling of losing Sherlock to go away and to keep the nightmares at bay._  

He slowly opened his eyes to find his head laying on a firm chest. Just before the panic set in, he recognized the shirt Sherlock had been wearing on the plane from Germany.  _How did Sherlock get here and why were they currently wrapped together?_  John realized he was more draped over Sherlock’s body with half of his than anything.  

Sherlock must have come home at some point and found John passed out in his bed. Unable to wake John and possible not wanting to sleep on the couch, he had laid down in the bed as well and now they were for lack of a better word cuddling. This was a bit not good, John needed to move over before Sherlock woke up and found them like this.  

He didn’t want to ruin what little of a friendship they may have left because of this. John was so comfortable and warm lying here with Sherlock that he was reluctant to move. He had wanted this for so long. He quickly scolded himself for not moving right away and yet again taking advantage of his friend. First the hospital, now this.  

Before he started to move, he felt the rumble of Sherlock’s voice through his chest.  

“You are thinking so hard it’s almost painful.”  

John flinched knowing Sherlock was awake to find them like this. As he tried to move his body away, he could feel Sherlock’s arm tighten around him.  

“Don’t go, John,” Sherlock whispered. “Don’t you think we have been dancing around this long enough?”  

John could feel lips ghost his forehead as Sherlock spoke.  _Could Sherlock possible want this too?_  

He stopped trying to move away and instead angled his head to see Sherlock’s face. Sherlock’s beautiful sea glass eyes were watching him through lowered lashes. He looked so young and vulnerable staring back at John. For the first time, his face showed openly, his emotions towards John.  

John struggled to find the words he wanted to say to Sherlock about how he felt. All the years of hiding these feelings, made the words get stuck in his throat.  

“It’s ok John. We have time. Go back to sleep, we both need to rest. We can talk later.” Sherlock whispered, placing a kiss on John’s forehead before closing his eyes.  

John obeyed closing his eyes as well. Hoping that when he woke, he would have the words to tell the man he loved just that.  

 

\-------------------- 

 

Sherlock waited until he was sure John had falling back to sleep, before easing slowly out of bed and moving towards the door. He stopped for a moment beside the bed to watch John sleep. He had enjoyed the feel of John in his arms while they slept. Being able to hold him without transgression or judgment felt like a gift.  

After Mycroft had told him about what had happened with John after Sherlock had been shot in the roadside, then Mycroft had shown Sherlock the surveillance video from his hospital room. Watching John speak all these beautiful words to him, while he slept, made Sherlock had wanted to leap out of the bed and run to John that second.  

But... Mycroft had finished by showing him what John had gone through when Sherlock had faked his death. He was undeserving of such a love, that someone as wonderful as John had to give. His inner Mycroft had stepped forward once again telling him that all hearts are broken and caring was not an advantage. If he had broken John that much when they were just friends, he didn’t feel that he deserved a second chance, much less John’s love. Maybe John would be better just staying Sherlock’s friend, maybe the hurt would be less.  

Of course, Mycroft had agreed that they should stay as things were. He wished now that he had never listened to Mycroft back in Germany.  

He watched John for a moment longer before leaving the room to call his brother. He was not leaving John after this. It was clear John wasn’t handling everything well yet and he had promised they would speak. John deserved to know how Sherlock felt about him and to make his own choice on whether he still wanted Sherlock.   

He deserved to know he was loved and not alone. That Sherlock would and wanted to be with him, by his side for forever, if John would have him.  

He needed Mycroft to put off his coming back to life, so John and he could have time that would be undisrupted to figure out where they stood with each other. He didn’t need to deal with the circus of being alive again as well. He wanted to focus on the man he loved more than anything, first.  

He dialed Mycroft and waited.  

“Ah, Mycroft..” 

 

\----------------------------- 

 

John knew before he was even aware that he was alone. His dreams had been filled with murder and blood, it seemed as if his mind was reliving the last 5 months in full detail. He woke to his own screams, scrambling backward across the bed until he was against the headboard. His eyes wildly flashing around the room in search of the aftermath, his mind had been showing him.  

Sherlock was nowhere to be seen. Had he only dreamed of Sherlock holding him, brushing kisses on his forehead. _He was such an idiot_ _,_ _of course, he had. Sherlock was miles away, staying with Mycroft. Would_ _Sherlock_ _ask_ _John_ _to_ _leave when_ _he_ _returned to Baker Street?_ This question continued to plague John _._  

He let a choked sob escape as he pressed his face to the headboard, wishing the kiss had been real. He pressed the tips of his fingers to the spot on his forehead.  _Only a dream_. Another sob left his throat against his will.  

The bedroom door then opened a crack and John flung himself off the bed and into the corner. 

“John?”  Sherlock spoke cautiously from the door. Having witnessed John throwing himself from the bed. 

“Sherlock?” John whispered anxiously from the floor. “Is that really you? You are here?”  

“Yes, John. You are not seeing things.”  

John watched as Sherlock slowly came around the bed and approach him, hand stretched out to help John from the floor. He allowed Sherlock to pull him up and into his embrace willingly. The safety that he felt in Sherlock’s arms, helped him to relax a small amount.  

“I believe I promised we would speak when you woke. I have ordered food and thought we could do so while eating or after if you prefer.” 

John hiccupped a small laugh.  “Sherlock Holmes, eating willingly? Were you body snatched recently?”  

“Really, John?” Sherlock scoffed, with no malice in his voice. He made no move to release John from his embrace, instead, he pressed a small kiss to John's forehead with a smile on his lips. “I have been known to eat every once in a while.” 

  


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> God, why wasn’t he speaking. Say something. Anything. Tell him you love him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has reach my most subscribed fic to date. I am blown away each time I post at the wonderful comments I receive. Thank you to all of you that are enjoying this journey with me. I really have no idea how many chapter this will end up being. There is not really an end in sight yet. I have already started chapter 10.  
> As always please comment and let me know what you thought. You can also follow me on twitter @octoberisblue or tumblr @bluebuell33. <3 Hope you enjoy this chapter. This one is fully John POV.

\----------------------

 

As John stood in the spray of the shower letting the water wash away the last of the nightmare. He could still feel Sherlock’s arms around him, holding tight. Sherlock made him feel safe and seemed to quiet his nightmare filled mind.  

His thoughts went back to his return to Baker Street and how he had pulled himself off the floor, then gone through the flat and found all Mycroft’s cameras, taking great pleasure in smashing all of them. He didn’t need Mycroft’s prying eyes watching him at all times of the day and night, a constant judging audience for his breakdowns and nightmares, he knew would happen. It was only a matter of time. 

He remembered dragging out the whiskey he had bought after the fall and set to drinking the entire bottle. He didn’t remember making it to bed or when Sherlock got in there with him. He had enjoyed waking up wrapped around Sherlock though, well after the panic had vanished and he knew Sherlock was okay with how they were. Dear, sweet, wonderful Sherlock. John was still in awe that Sherlock cared about him even after everything.     

John felt the water begin to turn cold, he reluctantly turned it off and stepped from the bath. For a short moment, he stood in the mirror looking at the man staring back at him. His face was thinner than it had been and his eyes shown with the sadness of what he had endured the past 6 months.  

He wondered if this new path of Sherlock and him would bring back the light that use to shine from his eyes. He dressed in a comfy jumper and pajama bottoms, then took one more look in the mirror before walking into the kitchen.  

He stopped short at the sight of Sherlock standing near the table in his blue dressing gown thrown over an old t-shirt and pajama bottoms, nervously arranging the takeaway containers. This was a sight he had missed so much; the moment stole his breath away.  

Sherlock met his stare and held it, their eyes seemed to speak volumes. John could read so much in Sherlock’s look. He had never seen Sherlock unguarded and open as he was now, it was beautiful to witness.   

“John?” His name rippled from the silky deep voice that made his knees go weak.  

Sherlock started around the table. “I have ordered your favourite Thai dish and opened a nice bottle of wine. Shall we sit?” He gestured towards the chairs at the table. “Or would you rather eat on the couch?”  

“Here is good. Thank you, Sherlock.” John watched a blush spread across Sherlock’s cheeks and it made him smile more. After so much sadness it felt great to smile again. Just having Sherlock here with him, made everything seem lighter like he was no longer carrying the weight of the world.  

“John, there are events and sentiments we should talk about...” Sherlock started as he took his seat and began to open containers.   

John’s heart erupted into a flurry of heartbeats that felt as though a train was speeding through his chest. He wondered if Sherlock hears his heart or was the sound of Sherlock’s own heart racing was drowning out the sound of John’s.   

“I know we have already talked about the snipers as the reason why I faked my death and didn’t inform you that I was in fact alive. I realize that I miscalculated the emotional toll this would put on you as I did not understand how you cared for me at the time. I did believe that I was alone in my sentiment and thought that I alone would bear the burden of my actions.”  

John could only sit in shock as Sherlock emptied his heart to him. All this time, he had thought he was alone in his feelings for Sherlock, but here was this beautiful genius laying his love out to John. He should say something back.  _God, why wasn’t he speaking? Say something. Anything. Tell him you love him._  

“Sherlock, I... I don’t know how to get past the pain you put me through. I understand why you did what you did. But that doesn’t erase the past. What I went through... or the thoughts I had about ending everything.” John stumbled over the words.  _God, what was he_ _saying?_ _This is not what he meant to say. No stop. Stop talking._  

Sherlock flinched at the words that tumbled out of John with no filter or forethought.  _But it was the truth,_ _wasn’t_ _it? What if he had_ _seceded_ _6 months, 1 week and 2 days ago to end his life._   

John covered his face with his hands as his eyes burned and tears threaten to spill forth. He wanted to forgive Sherlock and move forward, but he couldn’t, not yet. Maybe he needed to forgive himself first...  _Would Sherlock understand?_  

“John, I understand that you are mad at me for what happened and what seemed like a lack of care from me. But I hope you know that I do care for you and thought of you constantly while I was away.” Sherlock’s voice seemed to crack at the end.  

John raised his head, removing his hands to look at the man sitting across from him. The sadness in Sherlock’s eyes brought the tears he had held back to the surface. He wanted to say to forget everything he had just said and pull the man into his arms instead as Sherlock had done earlier. But there was a fear in John that held him back, whispering that if he gave his whole heart to Sherlock and Sherlock left again, he wouldn’t even last a week. 

“John, tell me you don’t care for me and I will not push further. I will, of course, remain your friend always, as I don’t wish to cause you more pain. Tell me you don’t feel the same...”   

John could only describe the look on Sherlock’s face as pure anguish.  _What was he doing?_  He loved Sherlock more than anything. They had both been through so much in the last 6 months. Sherlock’s time had been no holiday picnic. He thought about all the scars that covered Sherlock’s body now, not to mention the bullet wound. Hadn’t Sherlock suffered enough.  

“Sherlock, never think I don’t care for you. Because I care for you more than anything else in my life. You were my life. I have spent these last month's believing I failed you causing your death and it almost killed me.” John whispered the last part.  

Sherlock was off his chair and around the table before John even finished, falling to his knees beside John, wrapping his arms around his waist.  

“You could never fail me,” Sherlock spoke against John’s shoulder. John could feel his jumper dampening where Sherlock’s head lay. He put an arm around Sherlock’s shoulders and one hand in his curls as John lay his head against Sherlock’s.  

“I love you.” He whispered into the dark riot of curls, tightening his grip.  


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love you. 
> 
> Spoken so softly one might think they misheard.

_\----------------------------_

 

 _I love you._  

Spoken so softly one might think they misheard. Sherlock held his breath and waited, John still had an arm around his shoulder and one hand running through his curls. But John offered no other words, nor did he repeat what he had said.  

Sherlock still had tears lightly falling from his eyes at the thought of John thinking he had failed Sherlock and caused his death. Sherlock’s heart had shattered to think this strong, loyal, beautiful and caring man had been living with the unnecessary guilt that he had caused his best friend's death. Sherlock tightened his grip on John, turning his head to press a kiss to John’s throat. He could feel John’s pulse against his lips.  

“John, I--”  

“We should finish our meal.” John interrupted, letting go of Sherlock and turning back to the table. Sherlock stayed frozen for a moment, still kneeling beside John, watching him open containers and pick up a fork. A tear slid from the corner of John’s eye as he blinked, but he continued to stare at the table.  

“Right, yes, of course, you must be hungry.” Sherlock stood and returned to his seat, baffled as to why John was pushing him away again.  

The rest of the meal was eaten in silence, neither offering to speak first. Afterward, John made a small comment about being tired, before exiting the room and heading upstairs. Sherlock watched him go, unsure what to say, he had hoped that John would continue to use his room downstairs. He thought they were finally getting somewhere, they were supposed to talk about everything, but John had closed himself off again after only a short talk.  

Sherlock stood and cleaned up dinner before retiring to the sitting room to tune his violin. It had been so long since he had played. Once he finished, he began to play a quiet soft song that he had composed for John, while he was away. An hour into playing, he heard a scream from upstairs, he continued to play hoping it would sooth John, but the terror continued. He quickly set down his violin and hurried up the stairs to John’s room.  

Not sure how welcome he would be, he paused outside the door and called out John’s name. The only answer was a sob then John yelled “No Sherlock! Don’t be dead!!” in a panic.  

Sherlock threw the door open and entered the room to find John thrashing on the bed, lost in a nightmare.  

“John - John! JOHN!” He yelled standing near the bed, he knew better than to fully approach before John was awake.  

John’s eyes flew open frantically before they landed on Sherlock, a sob left his throat as he rolled over, curling into a tight ball, holding his knees to his chest. Sherlock moved softly to the bed, sitting on the edge with one leg folded up resting near John’s back.  

“I am so sorry, John. So very sorry.” Sherlock slowly reached his hand out, placing it on John’s shoulder. John flinched at the touch, causing Sherlock to remove his hand, then John turned over and curled himself around Sherlock, laying his head on Sherlock’s thigh.  

“Don’t leave, me.” John whispered.  

Sherlock laid his hand on the side of John’s face, wiping away the tears that fell.  

“I promise my John to never leave you again. Anywhere I go, so shall you. He placed his other hand in John’s hair, while continuing to lightly brush away the tears.  

“Did you know I heard you talking to me at the hospital, while I was asleep?” Sherlock continued.  

John made no sound, but his grip on Sherlock seemed to tighten. Sherlock continued to stoke the side of John’s face with a loving touch. 

“I remember all the things you said to me during that time. Even before Mycroft showed me the video of what you had said. I wonder though why you had no nightmares while we were there?”  

A quiet voice rose from his lap. “You give me a quiet mind, just by being beside me. I am scared what will happen if you leave me again. Sleeping without you, brings out the nightmares, but I have no right to ask that of you.”  

“John, all I want is to help you and be there for you always.”  

“I should be the one taking care of you. You should be resting. Have you even checked your bandages since the hospital?” John questioned, looking up at him now.  

Sherlock could only stare back at him, truthfully, he had been so worried about John, that he hadn’t even thought about his injuries.  

John lay his head back down and closed his eyes. “Once again you are making sacrifices for me. Once again, I have failed you. This is why I have no right to ask you for more... You deserve so much more, so much better than a broken soldier and useless doctor.” 

Sherlock could only watch, his heart twisting around itself as the one man he loved and would ever love fell apart in his lap.  

“You my John are most certainly not broken or useless and I refuse to let you believe that.” Sherlock continued running his fingers through John’s hair as he spoke to the man curling tight around him.  

“I am the one that caused all of these thoughts in your head. I am the one that faked his death and left you to grieve all alone. I should have told you, it’s a decision I made to protect you and one I can’t regret, yet I do. If anything, I am not worth of you. The bravest, most loyal, wonderful man I have ever had the pleasure to know.” 

John opened his eyes again, looking up at Sherlock, tears still streaming down his face. “What makes me worthier than you? I am a broken man who failed his friend and is destroyed nightly by nightmares of the things I have done and would do again if it meant getting you back.” John retorted then grew quieter, laying his head back down. “I just wish sometimes that I could go to sleep and wake up with amnesia, so I could forget the things that I have done.” John whispered the last part in to Sherlock’s hip as he pulled him closer yet.  

“Budge up.” Sherlock whispered back as he helped John slide over on the bed, so he could lay next to him, pulling him close again, while their legs intertwined.  

“I wish I could take away all your nightmares and replace them with only happy thoughts. You John mean the world to me and I love you more than anything else.” He pressed a kiss to John’s temple and felt the man relax beside him.  

“I love you too Sherlock, more than anything.” John turned his head catching Sherlock’s lips with his own.  

Sherlock marveled over the wonderful feeling of John’s lips on his. It was a simple kiss but it was prefect and the promise of something new and brilliant. 

As they lay there, Sherlock heard his phone ping from his pocket, reaching in and pulling it out, he could see that was a text from Mycroft.  

 

Received 

**We have a problem. Sending a car to pick you up. Come alone. MH**


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sitting on the night stand was a note that read. 
> 
> I had to go. I am sorry. 
> 
> I love you. 
> 
> Sherlock

\--------------

 

John felt Sherlock go tense against him as Sherlock read the text he had just received.  

“What is it?” He asked trying to keep the worry from his voice.  

The only person it could be is Mycroft as no one else knew Sherlock was alive yet. Sherlock didn’t respond, he was just frowned at his phone before sending a quick text back. John waited, his heart beating wildly as he lay there snuggled against Sherlock. Wish he would say something, anything about what was going on.  

There seemed to be a flurry of messages back and forth between Sherlock and who John hoped was Mycroft. Since Sherlock seemed unwilling to share with him what was happening or answer him, John decided to get up and make some tea.  

Somethings he guessed would never change. He moved to the edge of the bed, sitting up and rubbing his face with his hands, trying to wipe away the emotional moments they had endured this evening. He has undergone such emotional strain since they left Germany, he just wanted to sleep forever. Maybe he should change his bandage, then make tea or he could just--  

There was a hand on his elbow. John turned to find Sherlock watching him, one hand on John’s elbow, slightly pulling him back on to the bed.  

“John-”   

Sherlock’s phone pinged once more.  

They both stayed there for a moment just looking at the other before Sherlock turned to glance at his phone and John left the room headed for the loo and the med kit he kept there. John cared for his leg which was healing nicely and should be good in a few more days, then he decided that he needed to check Sherlock’s injuries as well.  

Exiting the loo, he found the flat deathly quiet, he headed for his room where he had left Sherlock only to find it empty.  

Sitting on the nightstand was a note that read.  

 **_I had to go. I am sorry._ **  

 **** **_I love you._ **  

 **** **_Sherlock_ **  

   

How dare he leave John behind after just promising to never leave him in the dark again. John felt his angry flooding through his veins. Dressing quickly and heading down the stairs for his coat, he pulled out his phone and send off a text.  

 **Sent**  

 **You better have a car here in 3 minutes to take me to him.**  

 

Receiving no reply, John went down to the street to find a car already arriving.  _Good_. As the car pulled up to the curb, John rechecked his gun tucking it into the back of his jeans. He opened the back door and slid into the car. Sherlock was not leaving him behind again no matter what he thought. They had not gone through all that emotion and I love you’s for Sherlock to disappear the second John leaves the room. 

 

\------------------- 

 

A cross-town, Sherlock entered his brother’s office with a look of anger on his face.  

 

“I am here! Now tell me why it was so important that John not come with me?”  

 

Mycroft looked up from his phone. “As I said there is a development and I need you here. They won’t make a move if you are there. He needed to be alone.”  

 

“What do you mean he needed to be alone?” Sherlock’s voice dropped to a dangerous tone. What game was Mycroft playing? 

 

“I suggest you start telling me what is going on and why you're using John as bait.” Sherlock held his brother’s stare. “I will tell you this just once if anything happens to that man, I will end you Mycroft.”  

 

“A touch dramatic don’t you think, Brother. You needn’t worry, I am having him closely watched as we speak.” They glared at each other for a moment before Mycroft continued. “There was a person left in Moriarty’s web that you both missed. Someone with the power and connections to restart the whole group. It started before we left Germany, talk of them coming after you again through John. As we headed home, I received word they were going to take him, which is why I had you come stay with me. I didn’t know John was going to take out the cameras and cause such an uproar that you would end up back at Baker Street before it happened.” 

 

“So, you thought to drag me here, to give them time to break into Baker Street and take him? What happens if you can’t follow them or they give your team the slip.” Sherlock leaned over Mycroft’s desk, fury dripping from his voice.  

 

“Everything is well taking care of and thought through. They have already taken him. He texted me for a car 10 minutes ago, but they were waiting for him on the street. Now we follow them.”  

 

Sherlock slid his hands across Mycroft’s desk angrily, clearing everything on to the floor. “I am done with you using John and me in any way from now on. You will get me to the team that is following John this instant or so help me Mycroft, you will wish John never found me in Serbia.”  

With that, he spun on his heels and left Mycroft’s office, headed down the hall to Anthea.  

 

\---------- 

 

It took John about 3 seconds to notice there was a problem. The girl waiting in the car was not Anthea, which was his first clue, followed by her immediate movement towards him with a needle. Thankfully he was on edge because of Sherlock and his reflexes were sharp. He was able to catch her wrist, twisting it causing her to drop the nettle.  

She tried to dive for the needle while throwing a right hook at his cheek. He deflected the punch while pulling his gun out of his jeans, aiming for her.   

 

“Now how about you tell me what’s going on here? Start with where are you taking me and where Sherlock is?” His hand was steady as a rock. How he has missed the rush of adrenaline.  

The woman seemed to study him, not extremely worried that he was pointing a gun at her.  

 

“Taking you will bring him to us.” Her heavy with a Serbian accent. “You both have been causing a lot of trouble over the last six months. We are here to end that trouble once and for all.” 

 

“Ah, I see. I think you will find we don’t go down without a fight and I have no intention of helping you lure Sherlock into a trap. I really have no intention of even going any farther with you. So, if you will be so kind as to have the driver stop the car here, I do believe I will be leaving now.”  His finger closed around the trigger, making sure she understood what he was prepared to do.  

 

She leaned forward knocking on the glass petition. “Ivan, pull over here.”  

 

As the car stopped and John moved towards the door, she gave him a smile that seemed to say (I will be seeing you soon.)  

 

“I don’t doubt that, just maybe not the way you are thinking.” With that he stepped from the car, moving backward so not to take his eyes from the car, yet he also checked his surrounds. Best to make sure he wasn’t walking into anything else.  _God, what a day._  

 

Once he rounded the corner and was out of view from the car, he lowered his gun and made for the nearest phone booth.  _That was close._  Now he was angrier than before and still unsure of where Sherlock was. Mycroft had better have answers and be able to track the phone he left in the car just now.  

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hello John,” 
> 
> “Mycroft, I hope for your sake that you had no prior knowledge of what just happened. But somehow, I have a feeling you knew something, which is why you tried to keep Sherlock with you and why you called him away today. Now-”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you are all still enjoying this story. Sorry this chapter took me a bit longer. Lost my vision and drive to write, but hopefully its back. Let me know what you think.

\---------------

 

“Hello, John,”  

“Mycroft, I hope for your sake that you had no prior knowledge of what just happened. But somehow, I have a feeling you knew something, which is why you tried to keep Sherlock with you and why you called him away today. Now-”  

“John, I am afraid you think too highly of my --”  

“I am not finished Mycroft. You will wait until I am finished or so help me.” His voice was dead calm as he heard Mycroft scoff, but hold his tongue just the same. “Now I need 3 things, first I need a ride right now for real this time. Second, I want you to take me to him and third, you will need to trace my phone that I left in the car. Do I make myself clear Mycroft?” 

“Crystal John. Nice to see you’re getting a bit of your old self back. Thought we lost you a bit there.”  

“Fuck off, Mycroft.” With that he slammed the phone down, ending the call.  

John stood in the shadows of the alley when a black car pulled up next to the phone he used for Mycroft. He waited, not moving from his spot, just watching the car. He was not going to show himself until he was sure it was Mycroft’s people and not the Serbians again.  

The back door flew open the second the car stopped and Sherlock stepped out, looking around.  

“Sherlock,” John started towards him.  

“John, I am so sorry. I had no idea.”  

They met in the middle, going straight into each other's arms. Sherlock clung to John, his face pressed to the curve of John’s neck.  

“I am sorry I didn’t know. I should have known. I should have been able to see it coming.” Sherlock kept whispering.  

“Mycroft has been playing us both, my love. But no more. I will fix this Serbia development and then I am done with him.”  

“No John, we will do it together and then we are BOTH done with him.” Sherlock lifted his face to John’s, kissing him softly. “Neither of us are in any shape to take the Serbian’s on alone, anyways.”  

“We are together in this.” John agreed, nodding. “I still need to check those bandages, you berk.”  

“Yes.” Sherlock smiled, lacing his hand with John’s and pulling him in the direction of the car waiting. “Now let’s go pummel my brother for his role in all of this. Then you can.”  

“Bet he wasn’t planning on me bring my gun, was he?” 

“No... I believe he planned for you to get all the way to their hideout before interfering.” 

John stopped walking towards the car, pulling Sherlock up with a tug of his hand. “That dick. After everything, he said in Germany. Wait, you don’t think he was trying to get rid of me because of this,” He gestured between them. “Do you?” 

“My brother is more interested in power then who his brother dates, I assure you.” 

“Yeah I guess that’s true, but still.” John moved the last few feet and opened the car door. Sherlock followed, sliding in after him.  

They rode in silence, still holding hands, both thinking about what was to come once they were at Mycroft’s lair.  

 

\----------------- 

 

Sherlock led the way to Mycroft’s office, still holding John’s hand. He could feel John tensing the closer they got to the door. He gave John’s hand a squeeze before he pushed the door open without knocking.  

Mycroft sat behind his desk talking with Anthea and texting at the same time. He didn’t even bother to look up as they entered.  

“Did you find them?” Sherlock demanded as they entered.  

Mycroft stopped talking, looking up slowly. “Ah, so you have returned. Demanding as ever. John, no worse for wear I see.” He stood moving around his desk toward them.  

Sherlock knew the instant John’s hand relaxed, what was about to happen, suddenly he felt John moving forward, catching Mycroft across the chin with a left hook.  

“You will NO longer keep us in the dark or try to manipulate us for your benefit!” John spat the words at Mycroft. His voice was dripping in anger. “We will not be part of your game, Mycroft. So, tell us if you were able to track them with my phone and if you have dealt with them or if we need to finish this.” 

Sherlock could only watch the magnificent being that was John when he was being protective. He could see Mycroft take a tissue from Anthea, dotting at his nose that seemed to be bleeding, while he and John glared at each other, neither backing down.   

“You really enjoy this knight in shining armor bit, don’t you John?” Mycroft sneered. “Does that make you the damsel, Sherlock?”  

Sherlock halted John as he made another move to hit Mycroft. “What is this about Mycroft? Can it really be jealous that I am observing?” 

John looked at Sherlock in surprise. “Jealous?” He questioned. 

“Obviously. But why? Oh!”  

“Sherlock, don’t think that you have everything all figured out. I am not jealous of your little – Well whatever you want to call this.” Mycroft made a gesture at Sherlock and John. “Now back to the matter at hand, we were able to track the Serbians using John’s phone. Very smart move, by the way, Dr. Watson.” 

“Ha!” John snorted. “Better than your plan of me getting kidnaped and possible tortured while I wait for you to show up. Had I even known about that plan.” He scoffed. 

“My plan was solid, we would have reached you before anything happened.”  

“Did you know that she was going to drug me?”  

“She? Interesting...” Mycroft moved back around his desk, picking up his phone again.  

“Why is that interesting? What do you know that you are not sharing, Mycroft?” Sherlock moved forward, trying to read any detail on his brother. Of course, Mycroft was playing his cards close.  

“This woman was she about 5’4, small build, short hair?” Mycroft fired out details as he searched through his computer. 

“Mycroft!!” Sherlock shouted at his brother, getting him to stop for a moment. “What aren't you telling us?” 

Mycroft turned his computer, showing a surveillance photo of the woman he had described, the woman that had tried to kidnap John.  

“This is Mary Morstan. A trained assassin for hire, known to work for Moriarty on occasion. Suspected of being one of the three snipers that day at St. Barts.”  

Sherlock looked towards John, who was staring at the photo like he had seen a ghost.  

“John?”  

“I know her... I didn’t recognize her in the car because her hair was different...”  

“John?” Sherlock stepped next to him. “Who is she? And how did you know her?” 

“I met her in Turkey before Serbia. She both told me about and led me to the man that ended up spilling about the compound in Serbia, where you were. But why would she get me on a path that would lead me to you, if she was one of the snipers? She said in the car, she kidnaped me to lure you out. But why not get you in Serbia instead?” John looked up into Sherlock’s eyes, his own filled with the unknown.  

“I don’t know, but we will have to figure that out before she makes another move,” Sherlock replied, pulling John into his embrace.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Punching Mycroft was probably not one of his better ideas, but it had made him feel a bit better. Well, until the news about Mary was brought out in to the light.

\--------------------

 

John followed Anthea down the hall towards the medical room with Sherlock in tow. Punching Mycroft was probably not one of his better ideas, but it had made him feel a bit better. Well, until the news about Mary was brought out into the light. Now John’s mind was trying to remember every detail of their first encounter in Turkey and then earlier today in the car.  _Why had he not realized who she was??_  

Sherlock tugged on his hand bringing him back to the present, where he noticed he had almost walked right past where Anthea had stopped and opened a door.  

“Anything you will need, you will find in this room. I will be just next door.” With that, she walked back out the door, closing it behind her.  

“She and Mycroft are a real pair, practically a match made in heaven,” John commented, before going to work finding everything he would need to clean and re-bandage Sherlock’s wound. She was right everything he could need was there and, in more ways, than one, he thought. As he turned back to Sherlock, who was sitting on the examining table unbuttoning his shirt, his coat, scarf, and jacket already removed.  

John stood there for a moment observing Sherlock slowly undoing each button, his eyes never leaving John’s, now that they were facing each other. John could feel his cheeks turning pink under such a gaze. He moved forward setting the supplies down on the table next to Sherlock, while Sherlock finished removing his shirt, laying it next to the jacket, turning back to John with his torso now bare.  

John could see Sherlock’s eyes start to darken when he stepped into the space between Sherlock’s legs. Even though they had slept in the same bed already, this was more intimate. John couldn’t help reaching out a hand to trace a long scar that ran down Sherlock’s rib cage. He felt Sherlock shiver under his light touch, then bring his hands up to grip John’s hips.  

“That one was from a fight in France when I was jumped by an unknown accomplice to the man I was following at the time.” Sherlock’s voice was quiet and thick.  

John leaned in kissing from Sherlock’s sternum to his left shoulder. “I wish I could have been there with you,” John whispered between kisses.  

“Me too, John. I wished every day that you were by my side.”  

John lifted his eyes to Sherlock’s, they mirrored his own eyes with a sadness of how close they had come to missing the chance to tell the other how they felt.  

John tilted his face catching Sherlock’s lips with his. All their kisses so far had been simple and soft. With this kiss, John poured in all the love he felt, his insecurities over how Sherlock felt seemed to lessen and melt away.  He slid his hands around Sherlock’s waist pulling him a bit closer as he nibbled on Sherlock’s bottom lip before running his tongue across the seam enticing Sherlock to open his mouth.  

Sherlock let out a small surprised gasp before his lips allowed John’s tongue access to his mouth. John relished in the taste of Sherlock and deepened the kiss, pulling Sherlock even closer, so they were flush against each other. He could feel Sherlock’s thighs tighten on either side of his hips holding him in place, while Sherlock’s hands roamed up and down his lower back.  

Somewhere in his desire filled mind, he heard a discreet cough behind him, Sherlock let out a frustrated sigh as they pulled apart, John turned to see Mycroft standing in the door.  

“When you are done, there had been a development. No rush, do carry on.” He sneered with the wave of his hand, then left the room as quiet as he entered.  

“Fucking Mycroft,” John muttered under his breath.  

“I agree, but I believe we should see what has happened,” Sherlock added.  

“Probably nothing just wanted to interrupt us,” John smirked, pecking a kiss on Sherlock’s lips before starting to check the bandage on his side.   

 

\-------------------- 

 

Ten minutes later, Sherlock dressed and led the way towards the commutations room, being sure to hold John’s hand again. He loved having the freedom to hold John’s hand and kiss him or hold him whenever he felt the urge.  

Mycroft’s control room was a frenzy of activity as they stepped through the door. Mycroft stood in the back towards the middle, staring at all the monitors on the wall that showed different parts of the city.  

Sherlock heard John quietly mutter. “A minor position in the government my ass.”  

He felt a giggle rise up, then he heard John join him giggling too. How long had it been since they had laughed together or didn’t feel so weighted down with the heavy sadness of choices they had made in the last year or so.  

Sherlock turned his head, catching John’s eyes, he could see the dark cobalt blue sparkle with the laughter. He held back the urge to pull John into his arms right there and plant a kiss for all to see, just because he loved this man so deeply.  

Their moment was interrupted once again by his insufferable brother. “If you two are quite finished, there are more pressing matters to attend too. It would seem that (Mary) caught on to the phone in the car and has dropped from view.”  

“What do you mean dropped from view?” John questioned.  

“Just what I said. We can no longer track her movement with the phone and are unable to find them since they ditched the phone and car several minutes ago.”  

Sherlock’s mind was whirling with the new information. She was on to them. Where would she go? She wanted him, was trying to take over for Moriarty, needed to make her mark? But why pretend to be Serbian??  Unless? Oh, clever girl. 

He stepped out of his mind palace to find John and Mycroft waiting and staring at him.  

“Figured it out then, Brother?”  

“Of course. But no doubt you already have as well.” Sherlock couldn’t help but sneer back at his brother.   

“Well, then how about you both fill in the idiot of the group.” John huffed next to them.  

Sherlock spun to face John. “It’s quite brilliant really. She must have heard rumors that I survived the jump and once she found that I was held by one of the other parties interested in taking over for Moriarty, she used you, John, to get me out instead of going in herself. But her plan to hijack us in the truck outside the compound went south when her team underestimated you. So, she decided to get us one at a time instead. First, she would take you, after that she knew I would come running to save you. Afterward, she could claim her superiority over the rest of the web, finishing what even Moriarty couldn’t do.” 

“Brilliant love, but how does that help us find her now?”   

“We know what she is after, so we just have to make it available.”  

“Oh no! You are not being bait, Sherlock! Over my dead body!” John fumed.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock reach the safe house after leaving Mycroft's Office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your continued reading. I hope you like this chapter. I really have no idea when this will end yet. Soon maybe. it just kind keeps going. lol Leave me a comment about what you thought or come chat with me on twitter. Enjoy!

\-------------------

 

John was still fuming when they arrived at the safe house. He hadn’t spoken to Sherlock since they had argued about Sherlock being bait to lure out the Serbians (Mary).  

“John, we need to talk about this. Will you please stop and just listen to what I have planned?”  

John was halfway up the steps to the safe house when he stopped for a second. “No. I am not for one second entertaining this line of thought, Sherlock. Just leave it be for right now.”  

“John, Please.” Sherlock pleaded, catching John’s hand before he could start walking again.  

John spun around to face Sherlock, his eyes blazing with anger. “How do you know it won't all go south again and you won't end up dead? Huh? Last time you went up against someone like this, you just went off alone and did everything without telling me, leaving me to watch you die.”  

 Sherlock opened his mouth to remind John that he had not really died and he did it to save John’s life. But the look John gave him, made him close his mouth instead.  

“I know you didn’t really die,” John growled through gritted teeth. “but you did to me and I spent 6 months trying to end my own life. I thought we had been over this already, Sherlock. I thought you understood. Now it seems like the last few days meant nothing to you as you seem ready to put me through it all over again.”  

With that John turned, entering the safe house with Sherlock trailing close behind. Once inside John headed straight for the only bedroom.  

“I need a moment. Do not follow me!”  

The door slammed shut as John disappeared into the room. Sherlock waited for a moment at the front door, before following John to the room. He paused at the door, unsure if he should knock, deciding instead to just open the door. As he entered, John sat on the edge of the bed, facing the door.  

“That took you longer then I thought it would.” John sighed, staring down at his clasped hands.  

“John, I am sorry that you think I don’t care or that everything we talked about doesn’t matter, because it does.” Sherlock took a few steps into the room. “Believe me, I have gone over every angle and this is the best way to get rid of the threat.”  

“I know that you didn’t plan for things to go wrong last time, Sherlock. I just can’t help but have deja vu with all of this and frankly, I am still not over the last time...”  

Sherlock closed the distance between them, standing in front of John between his legs. Reaching out, he pulled John’s head against his stomach, while sinking his hands into John’s hair. John let out a sigh, winding his arms around Sherlock and burying his face in Sherlock’s shirt.    

“I didn’t mean to freak out, but it was too similar and the flashbacks were becoming too real.”  

Sherlock could feel a wet spot growing on the front of his shirt, where John’s head rested. He continued to run his fingers through John’s hair, soothing him. They stayed lost in this moment until Sherlock’s phone beeped. 

 **Received**  

 **The plane has left private airport north of London.**  

 **Serbians were on the plane. Our chance was missed. Tracking plane. MH**  

 

 **Received**  

 **You should stay at safe house for now. Will update with any news. MH**  

 

“Well, I guess now we don’t have to worry about me being bait. Maybe Mycroft will be able to remove the threat without us.” 

 

“He does owe us for letting me be taken.” John pulled back from Sherlock, looking up at him. “Does this mean we can rest for a bit?”  

 

“Of course. Would you like to eat first or sleep?”  

 

“Sleep I think.” John started removing his coat and leaned forward to remove his shoes as Sherlock stepped back, moving towards the door.  

 

“I guess I will leave you be then.”  

 

“Unless-” John paused, looking up.  

 

“Unless?”  

 

“Unless -- You would like to lay with me? You don’t have to if you have something else to do.”  

 

“Budge up.” Sherlock removed his coat, scarf, shoes and started to unbutton his shirt as he walked back to the bed.  

 

John finished with his then slipped under the duvet, making room for Sherlock. As Sherlock crawled in, he curled next to John, pulling him close and wrapping his arms around the man. Hugging him close with their feet and legs tangled together, Sherlock breathed in the smell of John’s shampoo, as the man nuzzled in the crook of his neck.  

 

“I am sorry that I caused you to have flashbacks,” Sherlock whispered into John’s hair. “I never meant too. I was only thinking about how to stop them from getting you again.”  

 

“I know. But—the thought of losing you again terrifies me. Every time you are out of my sight, I am sure I’m going to wake up and this will all have been a dream.”  

 

Sherlock lifted John’s chin, so their lips could meet. Slowly, he pressed kisses upon kisses on John’s responding lips before releasing them.   

 

“Go to sleep, John. I promise not to leave you again.”  

 

 

\----------------------------------- 

 

 

Several hours later, John woke with a jolt, sitting straight up in bed. Sherlock grumbled next to him, trying to wrap around him more. John was sure he had heard a noise coming from inside the house. No one was supposed to be there, besides them and a few agents in the surrounding area.  

 

Creak.  

 

Yes, that was definitely a floorboard in the house. Someone was in here and working their way towards the bedroom. John reached for his gun on the nightstand, quietly checking the ammo and turning the safety off.  

 

“Sherlock. You need to wake up quietly, love. We need to move now.” John was glad, he still wore his jeans and pants as he eased from the bed.  

 

Sherlock was wide awake now also moving slowly to John’s side of the bed before stepping on the floor, moving to stand behind John, while John raised the gun pointing steadily at the door.  

 

The movement seemed to have stopped, they waited, neither moving or breathing as they waited. Before too long a second pair of feet joined the first, they seemed to be right outside the bedroom door.  John pushed Sherlock fully behind him with one arm as he slightly widens his stance, preparing for whatever came through the door.   

Finally, whoever it was had reached the door, as the handle slowly turned not making any noise. John was glad he was such a light sleeper from the days in the army or they would have had no warning.  

 

“Whatever happens stay behind me.” He whispered as the door slowly opened. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to find out who is coming through the bedroom door.....

\---------------------

 

Earlier that day at Mycroft’s office: 

 _“oh no! You are not being bait, Sherlock! Over my dead body!”_  

John had been furious with Sherlock, turning and walking out of Mycroft’s office, slamming the door behind him. He made it down the hall to a quiet corner before falling against the wall, his heart racing in his chest. His mind flashing images of Sherlock laying on the sidewalk, blood running down his face, painting the street red. Followed by images of Sherlock telling John, he had everything under control and that Moriarty was playing right into his hand.  

What a miscalculation that had been, unless Sherlock had known what was going to happen and that had been the plan along. John felt tears run down his cheeks as his hands tore at his hair. He wanted the images to stop, Sherlock was alive, he was here even if he was trying to put himself in harm's way again.  

John tried to slow his breathing and calm himself down as he heard Sherlock walking down the hall. Wiping away the remaining tears, he stood and waited for Sherlock.  

“John? Mycroft has offered us a safe house for now.”  

John nodded, not trusting his voice at the moment or that he wouldn’t lash out at Sherlock. Sherlock watched him for a second before leading the way to a black car parked outside.  

 

\---------------- 

Now:   

As the door slowly opened, John was glad for the darkness that shielded them in the room. His eyes were adjusted to the dark, which would give him the advantage over whoever entered the room.  

Finally, the door opened and in stepped Mary and Ivan, guns in hand but not raised up. Clearly, they thought they would be catching John and Sherlock sleeping. From behind him, John heard a distinct click as Sherlock raised a gun also, clicking off the safety.  

 _When had he gotten a gun and where had he been hidden that since they arrived?_  

John didn’t have time to dwell on these thoughts, keeping his gun trained on Mary, he slipped his best Captain face on. The four of them stood facing off, Sherlock speaking first.  

“So, I was correct that you have a mole in Mycroft’s office. How clever of you.”  

Mary smiled, apparently enjoying this more than a person with a gun aimed at their head should. 

“Figured that out all by yourself, did you. Not even Jim had that.” She boosted, quite proud of herself. “Had to make sure you were really dead, now didn’t we. It was a good thing too, learned so much about both of you and Mycroft of course.”  

“That’s how you knew where to find me in Serbia.” John surmised, stepping into the conversion.  

“Yes, the perfect soldier. I almost doubted that Sherlock was alive because of your actions. Had I known you would be so hard to kill after finding Sherlock, I would have killed you instead of sending you in to get him.”    

John growled at her words, tighten his grip in the trigger, he would show her a perfect soldier, at the same time he felt Sherlock lay a hand on John’s shoulder to steady him.  

“Your mole would have to have been someone close to Mycroft in order to know where John was.” Sherlock puzzled.  

“Oh, how wonderful! You haven’t figured out who it is yet! This makes everything so much better!” Mary laughed.  

John decided he was going to wipe the smile off her face if it was the last thing he did. “Why don’t you enlighten us before I put a bullet in your brain.”  

“Oh, now Johnny boy, what fun would that be. As we speak, my little spy is on their way to finish Mycroft off for good. With the three of you out of the way, I will be able to take control and rebuild the Web, bigger and better than before.” Mary lifted her hand that was not holding the gun, bringing a trigger into view. 

John’s insides fell, he tightened the grip on his gun as he watched the gleam in Mary’s eyes.  

“In case, you are not sure what this is, it’s a bomb trigger. It’s my back up, insurance if you will. The whole house is rigged to blow. My little mole took care of that. I really wanted to just shoot you after all the trouble you caused, to look you in the eyes when I did it, but.”  

“Oh!” Sherlock uttered suddenly. “Of course, your mole is Anthea! That’s why you knew what you did!”  

John turned his head for a second in surprise to look at Sherlock. “Anthea?! She is helping them and the one that is going to kill Mycroft?!”  

“Yes, it's perfect!” Mary exclaimed. “Well, we really have to dash. Bye boys!”  

Mary spun, ducked and darted out the door, John fired his gun catching Ivan between the eyes before he moved, but missing Mary. Sherlock also fired, managing to hit Mary in the side, while he dove for his phone to contact Mycroft.  

John runs towards the bedroom door and out into the living room after Mary. He found her clutching her side, crawling towards the door.  

“Bet you didn’t plan for that. It's over Mary. Drop the trigger.” He stalked towards her, gun posed in his hand.  

“John! I can’t reach Mycroft!” Sherlock came running out of the bedroom, phone held to his ear.  

“Good,” Mary said from the floor. “That’s all of you.” She released her hand holding the trigger.  

As it rolled to the floor, John watched in horror, when he realized that it was a pressure trigger. He spun grabbing Sherlock. 

“Sherlock! Get under!” He threw them both in the direction of the table as the bombs started to go off through the house.  

 

\-------------------- 

 

Across town, Mycroft entered his house weary from the long day of tracking the Serbians. He was no closer to eliminating them than he had been earlier. He had come close to blowing the plane out of the air, but there would have been to many civilian casualties if he had.  

He pinched the bridge of his nose as he stood in the front entrance to his house. He had been hoping to hear back from Gregory by now. He had texted while leaving the office, asking for him to stop by if he was free.  

Ping. 

 **Received**  

 **Hey** **My,** **got your message. I would love too. There are things I think we need to talk about.**  

 

Maybe talking everything out with Gregory would help him. He needed someone right now. Someone he could trust.  

“Are you going to come in or just stand in the entryway all night?” The voice of Anthea seemed to come for the dark sitting room to his left.  

“Anthea? What are you doing here? Has something new developed?” Having her in the dark made it impossible to deduce her. But the click of a gun safety was undeniable. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to find out what happened...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are getting close to the end folks! One maybe two chapters left! Hope you are all still loving this crazy story. <3

\------------------

 

 

“Well this is not what I expected,” Mycroft sighed, twisting the handle of his umbrella. 

“You had to know that this was coming.” Anthea’s voice was calm in the dark. 

Mycroft pinpointed her location from her voice. She was standing beside the left winged back chair in front of his fireplace, about ten steps from where he stood in the archway. 

“I suppose you have a logical reason for this.” He took a step towards her voice, flipping the switch to light the sitting room. 

“Of course,” She replied, her voice cool and calculated. She is pointing a gun at his chest. There is no falter in her hand as she stares at him. She is steady as a rock. Ready.

Now he can see her, the puzzle became clear. Sentiment.

“Felt I was getting soft, to sentimental.” He twisted his umbrella handle as he took another step. “Too much sentiment for my brother, for Gregory and even John? I suppose you could be right, but then again.”

She continued to watch him, offering no information or facial expression. He had taught her well. 

“Decided to take control by eliminating me and assuming my position, have we? Bold move even for you, I must say.” He moved another step forward. 

“You will have a plan for Sherlock as well no doubt. Otherwise, this would all be for nothing. As he will undoubtingly discover it was you within moments.” Mycroft gave his umbrella another twist of the handle. “Had me fooled, the Serbians were a nice touch, with the plane and kidnapping. Feeding me all the incorrect data yourself. You have been planning this for a while, haven’t you? Surprised you didn’t end Sherlock and John while they were aboard.”

She remained an almost eerie quiet. Waiting.

“I have known for some time that someone was working against me.” He tapped the tip of his umbrella against his shoe. “Every time I got close the trail would disappear. Clever, Clever.” 

“Well, what now? Going to shot me in the heart, here in my sitting room?” Another step. Half the distance between them closed. 

“I think that is close enough, Mycroft. I wanted you to observe what you had missed. What had been right under your nose, while you were busy preoccupied with your sentiment, first with Greg, that undeserving, incompetent detective and then your brother once he fell.” Her face shown with disgust now. 

“I tried saving you from yourself many times. I was able to rid you of that useless Detective Inspector, followed by a stroke of luck that Sherlock was caught in Serbia. He should have been taken care of there if Mary had not stepped in and sent John after him. She had only her own revenge in mind. But she will be dealt with along with your brother and his little soldier.” 

“No doubt, you will have rigged the safe house, they are staying in. I bet all this time Mary thought she was in control of you. How well I have taught you.”

A small flicker of compassionate swept across Anthea’s face. “I learned a lot from you that I will never forget before you moved to the losing side. Isn’t that what sentiment is, Sir? A defect in the losing side?” 

“I use to think that. But now circumstances changed. I should never have pushed that on you. I regret doing that to both you and to Sherlock. Though you seem to have taken this farther than he.”  

“I didn’t want it to come to this, Mycroft. But you have forced my hand at this point. It’s time for you to retire permanently.” She raised her other hand to grip the gun as well. 

“That is a tired cliché. Do try to make a clean shot, I have planned an open casket for my wake.” Mycroft stood proud and ready. At the same moment, her phone pinged. 

\------------------------------------

John emerged from the rubble that was once a safe house carefully, checking around him before turning to help Sherlock stand up behind him. They both just stood for a moment to steady themselves, leaning on each other. 

“Well, that was a close one.” John rasped, scrubbed his hands over his face, before glancing up at Sherlock. His lungs felt like they were filled with sand again. So much dust and smoke in the air. 

Sherlock was looking down at John like he was a glass of water on a hot day. He raised a hand to pull debris from the explosion out of John’s hair, then proceeded to crush their lips together in a (we are alive) kiss that made John’s toes curl. 

They stood there locked together, fighting for control in the battle of tongues, feverishly clinging to each other, afraid the other would disappear if they let go. What a sight they must make, standing in the middle of a destroyed house, entwined together, snogging as if a bomb had not just tried to kill them, but John didn’t care. 

“Mr. Holmes! Dr. Watson! Are either of you injured?!” Mycroft’s agents began to arrive at the house.

“We are unharmed, but where were you ten minutes ago, when armed Serbians walked right in the door?” Sherlock was glaring at the men, his arms still around John holding him tight. “Wasn’t anyone on surveillance?” 

The agents looked at each other before back at Sherlock. “We were watching the whole time, nothing moved until the house blew.”  

“Of course, she would be feeding you a faults video stream.” Sherlock tilted his head to kiss John’s forehead before releasing him and stepping apart. “Have you heard from my brother? No doubt she is there now.” 

“She? Sir?” 

“Yes, do keep up. I need your closest agents to go there now. Preferable ones that are not fans of Anthea.” 

“Yes, Sir!” 

John had started working his way through the debris towards the spot he had last seen Mary. He almost missed her trapped under part of the fallen ceiling. She was silently trying to get loose as he approached. 

“Didn’t think that through, did you.” He growled then flinched at the touch of cold steel in his hand. Sherlock stood beside him, placing a gun in his hand, looking down at Mary then back up at him. 

Mary looked at the both of them with a fury in her eyes. “I will end you both, you will live in fear for the rest of your lives! Always looking over your shoulder!” She raved. 

Bang! A neat hole and a thin trail of blood appeared between her eyes. 

John keeps his eyes on Sherlock the whole time. “I really hate looking over my shoulder all the time.” 

“Never again. I will be there to watch your back.” Sherlock pressed a kiss to John’s lips as he removed the gun from his hand. 

“Mr. Holmes! It’s your brother, he has been shot!” An agent yelled as he runs up towards them. “They are taking him to St. Barts now.”

“Do you have her?!” Sherlock questioned, starting towards what is left of the bedroom, looking for shoes and his coat. John followed close behind, not letting go of Sherlock’s hand. 

“No.” 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft awoke to find himself still very much alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your continued support of reading and commenting on my story. There should only be one chapter left after this one. That is the plan at least. I will let you know that I have plans to write Mycroft's side of the story, most likely starting from when Sherlock falls up to tracking down Anthea. Let me know whatcha think about that. :)

\------------------

 

Mycroft awoke to find himself still very much alive, in what seemed to be his private suite at the Diogenes club. He shifted on the bed only to wince in pain, taking stock of the damage, he found a bandage on his left shoulder. He pressed his hand over the wound. Bullet hole. 

“It just missed everything important, so you know.” Greg stood in the doorway, coffee in hand. He closed the door, crossing the room to stand next to the bed. “Bloody close call, My.” 

Mycroft observed the scowl on Greg’s face, as he reached his hand out for him. “I know.” 

“What was the plan? Where you just going to stand there and let her shoot you?” Greg was getting angry now, but he took Mycroft’s outstretched hand in his. 

Mycroft felt peace with the weight of Greg’s hand in his. He grazed his thumb across Greg’s knuckles, taking comfort that this man was here standing next to him even after everything. 

“I am sorry Gregory.” He spoke softly, not letting go of Greg’s hand, his thumb continued to rub circles as he gave it a gentle squeeze. “I was planning on your arrival to surprise her. Thus, giving me an upper hand.” 

“What if I was too late or didn’t show up at all? What then?! I could have lost you forever and not even known.” There were tears in Greg’s eyes and a catch in his throat. 

“I knew you would be there. There was never a doubt that you wouldn’t show up,” Mycroft disclosed. “I am afraid now that things are going to get worse before they get better from here on out. I have so much to fix and make right. First, can you bring my brother here for me, Gregory?” 

“Of course. I believe he is in one of the other rooms here. Figured it would be safer for the time being. I will be right back.” Greg dropped a quick kiss on Mycroft’s forehead before leaving the room.

\-----------------------

Two rooms down, John was laying on a large four-poster king size bed wrapped up in 6 ft of Consulting Detective. His face was buried in a mop of curls, while his arms were wrapped around Sherlock’s shoulders, holding him tightly. Laying on their sides, they were slotted together, legs intertwined, Sherlock’s face pressed to John’s chest, his arms around John’s middle. They were both fully clothed, with only their shoes removed, freshly showered with new clothes from home, they had crawled into bed without speaking. 

Both seeking comfort after everything, they laid twisted together, breathing the other in, neither letting the other go. John was afraid to close his eyes, to give in to sleep, worried the moment he did something would happen. 

“John, it’s ok,” Sherlock whispered against his chest while he nuzzled John’s shirt, placing kisses as he did. “I can hear your heart pounding. We are safe.” 

There was a knock at the door, John had his gun in hand before the knock was finished. His body was tense already sitting up on the bed. He felt Sherlock’s hand on the wrist of his hand holding the gun, Sherlock slowly pressed down, lowering the gun John held pointed at the door. 

“It’s ok, John. It’s just Lestrade. Mycroft must be awake.” Sherlock spoke softly while he eased the gun out of John’s hand, setting it back on the nightstand. “Come in Greg.” He called out. 

John tried to calm his racing heart, he was so on edge. Every noise made him react.  _He was a soldier, damn it. He was better than this._

“John? John?” Sherlock placed a hand on the side of John’s face bring him back to the present. “John, I have to go speak with Mycroft. Promise you will not move from this spot. I will be right back. It’s going to be ok. Greg will stay here with you.” 

John nodded, leaning forward to kiss Sherlock. “Come back to me.” He whispered.

“Always.” Sherlock smiled before sliding off the bed, putting on his shoes and left the room. 

John sank back on the bed. “You don’t need to stay, Greg. I will be fine.” 

“You sure mate? You seem a bit off?” 

“Thanks, but all the same. I don’t need a babysitter.” John curled on the bed, willing Sherlock to return quickly. He could hear Greg shuffling about the room, obviously not leaving anytime soon. With a groan, John sat up again, swinging his legs to the edge of the bed to stand up. 

“If you’re going to stay, may as well have some tea.” John moved to the kettle that Sherlock had made sure was brought to the room when they arrived. He knew making tea helped calm John at times. 

“Sure, that sounds great,” Greg moved to the chairs by the fireplace, taken the one closest to him, leaving John the one that faced the door. “I am glad you and Sherlock seemed to have worked things out between you. I was so worried about you when he was gone. I want you to know I was against you not knowing he was alive.” 

John’s head shot up from making tea. “You knew!” 

Greg’s face showed panic as he started to fumble over his words. “I--well what I mean is –uhm—Yea—I uhm --I knew he was alive. Not right away, but Mycroft told me after you disappeared.” 

“Great, that’s just great.” John threw the tea, he had been making. “I think you need to leave right now, Greg. I need some time to just—yea can you just leave.” John pinched the bridge of his nose, willing his body to calm down. 

“I’m sorry, John. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t know where you were and Mycroft said that we couldn’t.” 

“Just go, Greg. Please just go.” 

John didn’t move until he heard the door close. _Everyone knew. Everyone knew but him._  He walked to the window, staring out, unseeing until he heard the door open then close again, footsteps crossing the room, before Sherlock’s arms wrapped around him from behind, his head on John’s shoulder. 

“You know why you couldn’t know, John. I am sorry. But you know why.” Sherlock was barely whispering in his ear. 

“I know. It’s just hard to hear every time, that everyone knew you were alive but me.” 

“I didn’t know, Mycroft would tell Greg. Or that Greg would tell you he knew. I am sorry, John.” 

John turned in Sherlock’s arms, wrapping his around Sherlock’s waist. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I want to put it all behind us and move forward with our lives. I want to wake up every day with you by my side until I no longer walk this earth. I love you, Sherlock William Scott Holmes.” 

Sherlock smiled kissing John soundly. “And I love you, John Hamish Watson, as I always have. And I will love you far past the day my body fails me and life ends. You are my everything.” 

“So, what did Mycroft want?” 

“To tell him his plan for finding Anthea and keeping us safe until then.” 

“Not another safe house I hope?” John giggled. 

Sherlock laughed. “No, I think one destroyed safe house is enough. Besides, there is no place safer the Baker Street.” 

“Home it is then.” John pulled Sherlock close, kissing him deeply. 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home... The black door with the knocker leaning to the left and the brass letters reading 221B.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the final chapter. I want to say thank you to everyone that joined me on this journey. This started as a whim on a really bad night for me and grew like crazy from there. I have enjoyed every moment since then. I have just finished chapter one of Mycroft's side of the story and will be posting that soon as part of a series with this one. It will be called The Heart behind the Mask. It will fill in some gapes and background, also it will continue the search for Anthea all from Mycroft's view. It will be a Mystrade as well. Thank you again and I hope you enjoy the ending.

*********************************************************************************************************************

 

**Mycroft Holmes, a man who dedicated his life to Queen and Country, passed away due to complications after taking a bullet to the chest during a break-in at his home three days ago. The culprits have not yet to be found. The country mourns the loss of this great man. Mycroft is survived by his parents Sybil and Violet Holmes and his brother, well-known Consulting Detective Sherlock Holmes, who was thought dead until earlier this week.**  

**The family is devastated over the loss of their son and brother.**  

**There is no service planned at this time.**  

 

 

**\---------------------------**  

Home... The black door with the knocker leaning to the left and the brass letters reading 221B.  

John stood on the sidewalk staring at the door, one week since he had walked out the door in search of Sherlock, only to be kidnapped then almost blown up at the safe house. Now here they were again, arriving the way John had hoped they would when they returned from Germany.  

Sherlock stepped up next to John grabbing his hand. “Are you just going to stare at the door all day.” He leaned towards John, nuzzling John’s ear with his nose before dropping a quick kiss there.  

John smiled up at him. “No, you berk. It’s just so much has happened in the last week, that at times I didn’t think I would see this door again with you beside me.”  

“We are safe now, John. Mary is dead and Anthea is on the run with Mycroft closing in on her. Now that I am officially returned from the dead. There is no more hiding.”  

John simply nodded moving to unlock the door and go up the seventeen steps to the sitting room. Once there he removed his coat and shoes, making his way to his chair. Sherlock followed behind him, also removing his coat and shoes to sit across from him.  

They sat in silence for a few moments, while John contemplated what happened next.  

“You’re worried?” Sherlock observed from behind his steepled hands. “Worried about what happens now. Where we go from here?” 

 “Yes and no. I meant what I said back at the Diogenes Club. I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. But I keep failing to put everything that happened behind me. I want too, but I can’t seem too.”  

“Maybe you should speak to Ella again or someone along those lines? I can’t change the past, John. There are days I wish I could go back and save you from everything that happened, but it’s too late.”  

John watched the emotions play across Sherlock’s face. Maybe talking to Ella wouldn’t be such a bad idea. “Let me think on it, yeah? For now, I’m going to make tea and order takeaway.”  

Sherlock seemed to relax a bit as he stood. “Very good, John. I am going to change if we are staying in tonight.” With that, he headed down the hall to his room.  

John started the kettle, while he called for food. Hanging up the phone, he stood in the kitchen facing Sherlock’s room. (Their room?) They had slept in the same bed since Sherlock found him drunk and asleep in Sherlock’s bed the day they returned from Germany. John assumed that would continue now that they planned to be together.  

John walked down the hall, pushing open the half-closed door to find Sherlock standing in front of his dresser, wearing only Pajama bottoms. Sherlock stopped searching for a shirt, turning only his head towards John.  

John took in Sherlock’s still too small frame and scars that were continuing to healing. His tongue darted out to wet his suddenly dry lips.  

“Sherlock, I-,”  

“Yes, John?” Sherlock raised one eyebrow, smirking as he seemed to read John’s thoughts. 

“Bloody hell.” John crossed the room, pulling Sherlock into his arms, while his mouth sought out Sherlock’s, hungrily kissing him as though he would disappear if John let go. Sherlock held tight to him, as their mouths fought for control.  

“Can’t help, but want you,” John whispered against Sherlock’s skin as he kissed down his throat.  

“Then take me, for I am yours,” Sherlock whispered back, between small gasps and moans.  

John let out a growl as he began to move his hands desirously over Sherlock’s body, trying to touch all of him at once. Sherlock pulled at his clothes, fighting to remove them all at once, his hands trembling over the buttons.  

Before they could get any farther the doorbell began to ring.  

“Food is here,” John said regretfully, pulling back from Sherlock, to right his clothes.  

He pressed a quick kiss to Sherlock’s cheek. “Come eat love. We have all the time in the world for this.”  

Sherlock cupped John’s face, pressing their lips together in a passionate kiss before letting him go and reaching for a shirt to wear.  

John went down to get the food, paying the man before climbing the stairs back to Sherlock. He found him filling the tea kettle in the kitchen.  

“A nice cup of tea sounds lovely,” John commented as he gathered plates and forks before moving everything to the sitting room. Sherlock soon joined him bring to cups to tea with him.  

Soon they were snug on the couch, leaning against each other, feet touching on the coffee table as the tv played a crap show that made Sherlock yell out. John couldn’t have felt happier at this moment.  

They were safe and together, at last, sharing each other's food, drinking tea, the domestic bliss filled the flat swirling around them.  

John reached out for Sherlock’s hand, squeezing it, while giving him a look full of love and hope for their future. Sherlock gazed back at him with a knowing look. No words were needed. They were on their way to healing past mistakes and failures.  

No life is ever perfect or what you expect, but John knew that their life would be what they made of it and that meant a life full of love.  

There would be fights, arguments, and disappointments, but together they could overcome all of life’s hardships. John looked forward to growing old with Sherlock by his side. A cottage by the sea, Sherlock tending bees, while John wrote and tended the flower gardens. He smiled at the thought.  

Sherlock leaned close kissing John’s cheek softly. “I want that too someday.”  

John leaned into the kiss. “Mmm, Someday, love. When we are ready to settle, we will find that place, I promise. I love you so much.”  

“And I love you, My John.”  

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this. Leave me a comment and let me know or write me on twitter @octoberisblue. Thanks for reading.


End file.
